


Deal with the Devil

by jeejaschocolate



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ardyn is a creep, BAMF!Ignis, Blind Character, But he's conflicted, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Coming In Pants, Dark, Demons, Discussion of masturbation, Emotional boundaries, Gentleness, Human Echolocation, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Erections, Intimacy as a bargaining tool, Kissing, M/M, Massages, Mild Sexual Content, Mobility devices, Neediness, Power Dynamics, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Stalking, World of Ruin, humanized!Ardyn, touch-starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeejaschocolate/pseuds/jeejaschocolate
Summary: (Written for a prompt on the kink meme)During one of their encounters, Ignis finds a single weakness in Ardyn: The man seems particularly sensitive to touch. In the World of Ruin, Ignis decides to capitalize on this. He can make a deal with the enemy to benefit the remaining humans.Really, what is the cost to Ignis himself? All he has to do is deign to touch Ardyn every now and then. Nothing serious, just a pat on the shoulder. A brief massage.Nothing more than that…





	1. Ruin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HigharollaKockamamie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigharollaKockamamie/gifts).



> Written for [this prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3892.html?thread=4929332#cmt4929332) on the meme that asked for a world of ruin fic where Ignis makes a deal with Ardyn: He'll give Ardyn what he needs (in the form of touching) if Ardyn plays nice.
> 
> Let's face it, this prompt is basically a summoning spell for me at this point. More than happy to oblige!! (BAMF!Ignis is my secret, ultimate need as it turns out. And humanized!Ardyn is literally where I live.)
> 
> *Note on Ignis's blindness*: So I just finished watching an LP of the amazing, freaking awesome game "Perception" (only available to play on STEAM, I believe). It's a horror adventure type game (one of those walk-through-the-creepy-house deals) where the playable character is blind. It's first person POV and the character canonically uses human echolocation to get around (tapping her cane to illuminate the environment up to a point by creating a "mental picture"). It's incredible, really. And everything I want from Episode Ignis, but...you know. So, I decided to make that canon here! Ignis uses a cane for the visually impaired to receive feedback from vibrations and echoes (that's explained more in this chapter). I had to give credit to "Perception" because it's definitely my inspiration. Check out the game if you get a chance!

The moment had been brief. Ignis was certain the others did not even catch it. A look that lasted a fraction of a second too long. A sudden feeling of awkwardness. Just a fleeting glimpse, barely even there.

Except Ignis was completely positive he had seen it. Even now, as he sat in the diner-turned-hunter-HQ in Hammerhead. In the darkness. Ignis sat perched on the barstool at the counter. Alone, ruminating on past events (as he so often did these past two years, since Noctis disappeared into the Crystal). He remembered every second perfectly.

_“That’s the third round I won, Gladio! Not that anyone’s counting…”_

_“Yeah, yeah. I heard you, kiddo. Don’t forget, his Highness is in on this game too.”_

_“Barely. I folded like twenty minutes ago.”_

_Ignis stood at the caravan’s grill with the window open, glancing out at the scene every now and then as he cooked dinner. Some garulessa steak sandwiches. He had been planning on making daggerquill soup, but when Gladiolus bought a six pack of beer from the gas station and started popping them open…well, Ignis decided to make something a little more substantial. Meat and carbohydrates would be more appropriate tonight. Something to absorb all that alcohol his comrades were putting into their systems._

_Not that Ignis blamed Gladiolus for his decision. Everyone was on edge with the mysterious ‘man of no consequence’ following them around. Promising to lead them to the Archaeon and then suddenly demanding they stop for the night at 13:00. Nothing felt right. Gladiolus had needed to buy beer just to keep himself civil. Ignis respected that._

_Besides, Gladiolus remained as sharp as ever with a few beers in his system. The same could not be said for Noctis and Prompto. The crown prince was taking long pulls from his can, almost like he was searching for something special at the bottom of each drink. Ignis knew the reason for that: The headaches were getting worse. Noctis ached for some relief._

_Of course that was the reason they had decided to trust Ardyn in the first place. If meeting with the Archaeon was the answer and Ardyn could take them to Him, then…they needed to follow this eccentric. (And eccentric was putting it mildly, in Ignis’s opinion.)_

_The advisor flipped a gamey, red steak on the grill. He needed to stay on his guard. They all did, but Noctis was already struggling to keep his eyes open from the alcohol. And Prompto was rounding the edge of tipsy, headed straight for silly drunk._

_Ignis sighed._

_“It’s cool, ’s cool, Gladdy…” Prompto announced, slurring every other word. “Guess I got kissed by Lady Luck tonight, is all. ‘Cuz I’m whooping your ass and that never happens…”_

_“Heh. So tell us, Prom. How was your first kiss?” Gladiolus smirked and swallowed more beer._

_The Shield’s eyes quickly darted towards Ardyn who was walking over to their table from the general store. Arms swinging, carrying nothing. Despite the fact that Ardyn had spent most of the evening browsing the shelves._

_“Hey!” Prompto struggled to his feet, throwing one hand Gladiolus’s shoulder to try and shake him. “Don’t be like that, man! I’ve…been kissed before…’n stuff!”_

_Gladiolus smacked his lips around the taste of beer. He set his can on the table, eyes never leaving Ardyn—who had decided to pull up a chair and join them._

_Ignis watched everything like a hawk._

_“My, my…” Ardyn began in that strange way he had of talking. Like he was telling a private joke, but there was no one but himself to share it with. “This seems like quite a rousing game of cards, gentlemen. And the night has only just begun!”_

_Prompto surveyed Ardyn and hastily sat back down. Noctis was already lightly asleep in his chair. The blonde looked torn for a moment, then took another sip of his beer. Finally, he asked, “Do you…wanna join us?”_

_“Oh, no, not at all.” Ardyn smiled leeringly at Prompto. “Trust me, I’m much more satisfied watching you young men enjoy yourselves. I’m afraid my card playing skills have somewhat rusted over the years. Hardly able to follow a game of Triple Triad these days.”_

_“Uh…okay…” Prompto said, nervously drinking again. Of course, no one had ever heard of such a game before (Triple…what?) ._

_“Mmm,” Gladiolus murmured, shooting Ignis a look (which the bespectacled man met without hesitation). “Maybe we should pack it in for the night. Looks like Iggy’s almost done with dinner.”_

_“Oh, sure thing…” Prompto began gathering all the cards._

_His hands moved clumsily, even though his speech was back to normal. Prompto always sobered up fairly quickly when he had to. As he reached over to collect Noctis’s cards, his hand accidentally knocked over the prince’s beer. They all assumed it to be empty, but actually there was still a good half of the can left (his Highness was really such a lightweight). The remaining beer sloshed out over the side of the table—right onto Ardyn’s lap._

_“Oh, shit, I’m sorry!” Prompto cried loudly, waking Noctis from his light sleep. “Damn, didn’t know there was still so much in there…”_

_Without thinking, Prompto immediately grabbed a handful of napkins and threw them down onto Ardyn’s legs. He blotted the foamy mess with one hand and kept his other hand braced on the older man’s shoulder for balance._

_Ignis’s eyes narrowed. Ardyn’s face changed somewhat, a sudden look of genuine surprise passing over his features. His shoulders went completely stiff under Prompto’s hands, knees clacking together as Prompto hurried to sop up the beer. Clearly Prompto was not even considering personal space anymore—the boy was probably so embarrassed and tipsy he forgot. Ignis could only hope Prompto remembered to keep his hands in decent territory…_

_“Jeez, sorry about that!” Prompto threw down a pile of wet napkins, keeping his other hand latched onto Ardyn’s shoulder. “I really gotta be more careful…”_

_There._

_Gladiolus said something and Prompto turned to face the Shield. As he turned, the tips of his fingers brushed against Ardyn’s bare neck. Clearly the blonde did not notice and everyone else was looking at Gladiolus, but…Ignis saw how Ardyn visibly flinched. A shiver passed over the older man’s body and his eyelids fluttered for a moment. His tongue darted out, pulling his lower lip into his mouth lewdly._

_Nothing about that look could be considered decent._

_Then, just as quickly, the moment passed. Prompto moved his hand and continued cleaning up the beer spill. Ignis looked down at the finished sandwiches that had been sitting there done for a good five minutes. Deciding he had watched long enough, Ignis walked out of the caravan with their dinner in hand._

_“Aww, hey, look Noct! It’s one of your favorites!” Prompto nudged Noctis expectantly when he saw the food._

_“Nnnnh…still so sleepy though…” Noctis grumbled, rubbing one of his eyes._

_“You can remain awake long enough to eat,” Ignis insisted. He set the plate down in front of the prince and risked a glance at Ardyn._

_The older man had once again settled comfortably in his chair, the usual smug expression on his face. Everything appeared to have returned to normal, except…Ardyn had crossed an ankle over his opposite knee. A typical gesture for a man—if not for the way his folded leg was slightly raised. Covering his lower mid-section._

_Clearly hiding something._

_Ignis believed he knew what._

_It ruined the advisor’s appetite and general mood. He sat in between Ardyn and Noctis, adjusting his chair into a space that barely fit him, pointedly waving away all requests to move. Better safe than sorry, no question about that. He honestly did not want Ardyn anywhere near the prince._

_But by morning, Ignis was willing to write the whole thing off. Chalk it up to Ardyn being a general creep. Sexual hang-ups were nothing too out of the ordinary for men who hung around gas stations in long trench coats and fedoras, reciting old nursery rhymes. Surely._

_He made sure to ask Prompto if he was alright. Just checking that the young boy did not feel violated by the whole situation._

_Prompto did not know what Ignis was referring to._

_“It’s nothing,” Ignis assured him. Clearly Prompto had not seen what Ignis saw. “Let’s just keep a comfortable distance from this man of no consequence, shall we?”_

And yet, now…

Ignis breathed through his nose. Hammerhead was uneasily quiet. He could hear Prompto and Cindy snoring in the back of the diner, along with several other hunters. Where they usually slept when they were stealing some hours of sleep before beginning the day’s dark drudgery once more. Tonight, though, Ignis could not sleep. 

Gladiolus was in Lestallum with Iris, fighting back wave after wave of daemons. Ignis wished for the umpteenth time that cell phones were more reliable in this era of darkness. As it was, he could only get in contact with Gladiolus through landline. And the line at the Leville had been ringing out for the past two days. Or, 48 hours.

But that was not really such a long time, Ignis told himself. Hunts sometimes lasted weeks. He needed to be patient and wait for Gladiolus to return his phone call. The Shield always did. He made it a point…

…Ah, Astrals above. Ignis was so damn tired of being patient. 

Waiting was such a big part of this new life. Wait for more news. Wait for the hunters to return. Wait for the next shipment of medical supplies to heal thosewho had been wounded in battle. Wait for the next round of daemons to come so Ignis, Prompto, Gladiolus, and the rest could fight them off again.

Wait for Noctis. Of course, the king would emerge from the Crystal some day! At first, they had thought Noctis’s crystalline slumber would last only a few days. Then a matter of weeks. Then months. Now over two years had passed. Would Noctis emerge within the decade? Within Ignis’s lifetime, even…?

He hated pondering that thought. His belief in Noctis’s capabilities and worthiness was unshakable. Ignis knew Noctis would return as soon as he could, as soon as he was released from such a prison. Noctis would run back to them all the moment he re-found the corporeal realm.

But Ignis’s faith in the Astrals was waning. When would they give them back their king…? 

Ignis took off his dark glasses and rubbed his forehead. He noted, with continually less surprise as time went on, the scars that brushed his pinky finger with the movement. He thought of the temperature outside and wondered if it would rain. 

Any rain that came down was brief. It rained a kind of murky, impure water that made the trees grow twisted and that needed to be chemically treated before drinking. As it was, they were running out of potions to heal the sick and wounded, to say nothing of the elixirs required to purify their drinking water. 

Did it usually rain more in summer, or less? Why couldn’t Ignis remember…? 

His mind was probably going. It was too easy to get lost in the darkness of this world. The blindness had revealed itself to be a more…permanent condition. Sometimes Ignis could perceive intense light in his right eye, if it was bright enough. Usually he could make out a whitish glow from the spotlights that safeguarded Hammerhead and Lestallum. Once, he thought he saw a flash of lightning in a storm. But that was all there ever was. 

Yet, he was not the only one living in darkness. Ignis knew that. He could feel the dank air on his skin, taste it with every breath. The choking fear of their lives here. So much work to be done. With increasingly less resources to survive.

These past few weeks, since Gladiolus had announced his decision to join Iris in Lestallum, Ignis found his thoughts turning to the east. He pictured the map of Lucis in his mind, a small red pinprick shining over the eastern-most region that housed Insomnia. 

Ardyn was there, Ignis knew. In the ruins of Insomnia. The man (well, was he a man, really? Ardyn had revealed himself to be a mess of daemons and Scourge, riddled with a curse that granted immortality Ardyn himself had probably never asked for) told them all that he would be living in the Citadel “should they ever need him.” Ignis could only imagine how Ardyn was passing the time. 

Actually, he couldn't really. He had no idea how someone managed to live for over two thousand years. 

Ignis did the research and traced Ardyn’s heritage back to the earliest days of the royal line. He had Talcott read to him accounts of the Healer King. His work healing the Scourge and then shortly after his denouncement. The way he had been denied the grace of the Astral realm. Ignis found out everything there was to know about Ardyn from the history books.

But still, Ignis could not imagine how such a man existed. That— _that,_ the daemon-riddled curse of humanity and Eos—had travelled with them across Lucis? Shared a caravan with them one night? Orchestrated all of Niflheim and then led Noctis to the Crystal like a man luring a child with candy? 

Why?

Ignis closed his eye and frowned. He could not understand Ardyn, their ultimate enemy. And that worried him. He needed to understand him.

Increasingly, as Ignis pondered the Accursed, the memory of that one time kept popping up in his head. The way Ardyn flinched when Prompto touched him. The unguarded look on his face that came out of nowhere—and was never seen again. The older man’s reaction had been nothing short of sexual, that was for certain.

But…from such a small touch? Ignis remembered that Prompto had only touched him ever so slightly with perhaps two or three fingers. That alone had made Ardyn…like that?

Ignis wished he studied Ardyn’s lap harder to see the extent of his predicament. Fully hard, or half-mast? Ignis wished he knew. (But of course, at the time he had been disgusted by the whole thing, seeing Ardyn as a common pervert.) 

How did a man who lived for millennia come undone from the barest touch?

Ignis wondered.

He theorized. Just because Ardyn had been alive for thousands of years did not mean he had necessarily been partaking in…pleasure. Yes, there was actually a good chance of the opposite. Prompto described Ardyn’s face when he revealed his daemonic form to them. Black and grayish blue, with yellow eyes. Dripping some ooze-like Scourge substance. Not exactly a face or a state of being that would attract many lovers. That aside, Ardyn seemed to harbor a general disdain for people in general. ‘Mortals,’ as he called them. Which was everyone. 

A man like that had probably grown weary and uninterested in human contact. That was easy to believe. 

Still…there was undeniably some part of Ardyn that remained human. Incredible to imagine, but there had to be. For him to react like that. There was still a human in there, underneath the daemons and the millennia of hatred and pain. A human who desired physical touch just like everyone else.

Humans could be reasoned with. 

Ignis stood up. He stretched his limbs and walked over to the end of the counter where he had propped up his cane. As time went on, Ignis procured a walking cane that was more appropriate for his needs. This one was long, with a thin strap around the handle that Ignis could wrap around his shoulder to keep in place. The tip of the cane was muted with a rubber tip that allowed Ignis to feel his environment through the vibrations as they travelled up the stick. 

The rubber tip was all well and good. Ignis used it for when he walked in semi-familiar areas. In Hammerhead, Ignis hardly needed to use the cane at all anymore. He had sufficiently memorized the environment. Sometimes he put the cane down and just walked like everyone else. 

When he was traveling in totally unfamiliar environments, though, Ignis changed the tip of his cane to a plastic one. This tip created a short, higher-pitched sound when it hit against the ground. Ignis was teaching himself how to process these sounds—actually, it wasn’t that difficult to do, for him. So much of his sensory input had transferred to his auditory system that Ignis quickly learned how to read the sounds bouncing off his environment. Echolocation, he supposed. He could make a mental picture of everything within a six or seven-foot radius when he tapped his plastic cane against the ground. Which meant he needed to continuously tap as he moved. This could be dangerous in a battle situation, (daemons were more likely to sense him from all the noise he made), but Ignis was learning to calibrate. 

Sliding his fingers up the side of his foldable cane, Ignis unscrewed the rubber tip and changed it to the plastic one. 

He was going to Insomnia. To the Citadel. Of course, he had little idea what he would actually find there. Ruins most likely. And Ardyn. That’s all he knew for now.

Ignis went over his list of bargaining tools. The list was short, admittedly. Really there was only one thing Ignis could think to offer the Accursed. 

Right, and how far was he willing to go with this offer? For now, as far as he needed to go. 

The humans needed supplies. Ardyn was literally sitting on an untouched goldmine of curatives, the Insomnia stockpile. No one dared to go there since the fall, far too fearful (with good reason) of the Accursed and the rumored mountains of daemons who guarded the Citadel.

But Ignis found now that he was not so afraid. Time had whittled down his fear into impatience. He did not know if Noctis would return sooner or later, but the humans that remained—himself included—needed to survive. 

He would not wait out the end of the world like this. Not until every possible avenue had been explored. 

And, if Ignis’s suspicions were correct, he would not need to offer very much at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time doing a multi-chapter fill! But the prompt is very detailed and made me think of a long term story, so I had to give it a go. (Sorry for being so long-winded, as everyone already knows lol.)


	2. Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Citadel, Ignis finds just the man he was looking for.

There were indeed quite a lot of daemons in Insomnia, but not a mountain-full. That was a bit of an exaggeration.

…Although, the black flan Ignis encountered was indeed…tall. He heard the flan’s angry echo from about twenty feet in the air. A formidable foe. But flans were weak to magic and elemental weaknesses were Ignis’s strong point. He took down a good amount of the daemons, and the larger ones (some of the behemoths, and some of the things that felt more like magitek armor) he sidestepped. 

The Insomnian subway systems were quite useful. Ignis walked along the underground trails, tapping his way through the tunnels with a heart full of mixed feelings. Nostalgia, for one. These subway tunnels smelled just like he remembered somehow; newspaper garbage and brake oil. As if the subways had been untouched by the outside darkness. Ignis ran his hands across the tile mosaics on the walls, the pattern familiar under his fingers. 

But there was an eerie silence. So, so much quieter than Ignis remembered. These tunnels used to be filled to the brim with people; chatting on phones, earbuds in their ears filtering music, talking to each other. Muffled announcements over the loud speaker. 

Now there was only Ignis. Alone. The absence of others made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He tapped the floor perhaps more than necessary, double-checking the area behind him. He needed to fight off the sensation that something was creeping up his back. Following him. 

The only other sound was the occasional daemonic moan echoing from either end of the tunnel. Looming and wordless. The sounds should have been more horrifying, but honestly Ignis felt relieved to hear them at a distance. Away from him, at the very least. 

Finally, the lone explorer made his way to the Citadel. All those steps climbing to the top. Ignis hardly needed the cane for this. Like his feet remembered each step’s height on their own. 

He probably should have been more scared. Ignis knew that. But in his heart he felt only grief over his lost city, and some distant warmth. He still loved this place. Would always love it. Even if the only person he would find inside now was the furthest thing possible from his king. 

He was not afraid. Not of Ardyn, nor of whatever he would find inside. In some ways, Ignis was not afraid of death anymore as a whole. Living moment to moment, he had learned to accept death as an omnipresent possibility. The idea lost its sting of adrenaline after a while. 

Besides that, Ignis held the image of Ardyn’s face in his mind. The face Ardyn was probably certain no one else had seen. Overcome with sensation. 

A human face. A man. 

He tapped his way to the throne room. Ah, the floors were made of smooth tile. Tile was the best surface to walk upon. The echoes his cane made against ceramic offered the most useful information. Ignis could tell his distance to the walls on either side as well as the paintings that still hung there (the depicted subjects of which were lost to him, obviously). 

The thick mahogany of the door to the throne room. Ignis passed his fingertips over the carved pattern and caught a gasp in his throat. If he sniffed hard enough, he could somehow smell the wood (perhaps more of a memory than an actual sense perception). He imagined the pattern in his mind’s eye—the Founder King. Hands impossibly large, gripping the hilt of his infamous sword. Ring of Lucii resting appropriately on one finger…

Ignis heard a sudden footstep behind him. Roughly ten feet away, he estimated. 

Steeling himself, Ignis turned around. He tapped the plastic tip of his cane against the ground once, surveying his surroundings in the process. 

Ah, yes. A figure stood directly in front of him now about six feet away. Broad-bodied, a man certainly. 

Ardyn. He had appeared seemingly out of nowhere…that was fairly typical. Ignis thought the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees but he could not be certain. 

“Do you really want to go in there?” Ardyn’s voice echoed around the hall. 

Ignis blinked his good eye slowly as that familiar baritone washed over him. Oh yes. Definitely Ardyn. He had not heard this man speak in two years, but how could he ever forget. Such a distinct, inimitable voice. Louder somehow than even Ignis remembered, though the room may have amplified the sound.

“Hmm? What do you think you’ll find in that room?” Ardyn took a few steps closer, then stopped again. 

Ignis pulled his cane in closer, resting the handle against his shoulder. He could hear Ardyn well enough to judge his position and that would suffice. So he could give the tapping a rest for now. 

“Hard to say,” Ignis began. Unhurried, almost tired. “Although perhaps you would care to enlighten me. What have you done to the throne room, Ardyn?”

Ardyn chuckled softly, throwing his hands up in the air. “What have _I_ done? Oh, so accusatory! What makes you think I’ve done anything? I’m merely watching over the throne—preserving it, if you will—until the rightful king comes home to reclaim it.” He took another step forward. “And aren’t we _all_ waiting for him? Your precious True King, if I’m correct. Am I not?”

Ignis sighed. “Yes, that’s correct.” 

“Right, right.” Ardyn took a few steps to the right. Ignis tracked him with his face out of habit. “And how lonely it must be for the poor, beleaguered chamberlain. Waiting year after for his young charge to return. I wonder…” The immortal patted one of the hanging portraits idly. Ignis heard its frame scrape against the wall. “Do you think his Highness will _ever_ emerge from the Crystal? While you’re still alive, I mean?” 

Aiming for the weak spot, Ignis perceived. Trying to upset him. Why? Ardyn could have just attacked him. Unless…Ardyn was a man who liked to play with his food before eating it. 

Probably he had no intention of killing Ignis here, even though he certainly could if he wanted to. Ardyn made it clear that he was waiting for the showdown. He wanted Noctis to come at him with full power, surrounded by his cherished Glaives. Ardyn would hardly spoil that fun by murdering Ignis prematurely. It would put a dent in his grand plans.

…Perhaps Ignis understood Ardyn better than he thought.

“I suppose time will tell,” Ignis replied, keeping his voice even. 

“Indeed.” Ardyn’s tone got a little darker when he spoke that word. “And yet…here you are. Walking right into the lion’s den without anyone to come to your aid. A bold move! Fascinating, really. I applaud you, sir.” The man gave a customary little clap to demonstrate. 

Ignis perceived their surroundings carefully as that clap illuminated the environment for him. They were still alone, it seemed. No daemons creeping up on silent feet. 

When Ardyn’s ironic applause died down, he waited a few more moments. Then he spoke again, taking a few more steps toward his visitor. “But, you know. I have to ask. What brings you to my humble abode? Certainly not just nostalgia, hmm?” 

The advisor gripped his cane more firmly in hand. He was here to bargain. Because of that, Ignis would treat Ardyn the same way he treated any other foreign dignitary: With respect. And, in this case, with a generous amount of irony.

So, he began. “You’re right. Actually there is a reason for me to be here. But first let me apologize for dropping in unannounced. It’s just that you did not leave a calling card when we last spoke and I had no other way of getting in contact with you.” 

“I see…” Ardyn hummed, clearly amused and fairly interested. Ignis did not even think he was faking it. “So you’re here for me, then? How lovely…” 

Nodding, Ignis continued. “Yes. Now, let me ask you. How current have you kept on the situation with what remains of the human race?” 

At that, Ardyn laughed out loud. Almost too loudly for Ignis’s perception. “ _That’s_ what you wanted to ask me? My good man, what are you after?”

“Hear me out.” Ignis held up his other palm. “I’m only asking if you know what dire straits we’re in out there in the rest of the world. The daemon hordes are getting larger, more threatening. And we’re rapidly consuming the supplies necessary to face them. I assure you, it gets worse every day.” 

“Ah. Well.” Ardyn cleared his throat. “If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ve come to the wrong place.” 

“…Understood.” Honestly, that comment rankled Ignis. It rubbed against his sensibilities, that Ardyn would be so callous when he heard of humanity’s struggles. People Ignis cared about had died. Reality itself had been beaten into a mangled version of its former self, until people hardly knew what to make of their lives…

But then, what else did Ignis expect?

Summoning again the image of Ardyn that night by the caravan, Ignis forced himself to believe there was a speck of humanity in this creature. Even if Ardyn did not acknowledge that part of himself.

The advisor struggled on. “Perhaps you are aware, however, the wealth of healing items kept in storage within the Citadel. The royal stockpile. It is in the west wing, underneath the military barracks. At least enough curatives to last the human race five years, I would say. Perhaps more.” 

Ardyn breathed through his nose. “Mmm. So there is. Riveting. Now, what does that have to do with me?”

“Would you be willing to give us some of the stock? All I’m asking for is enough to fill small trailer—”

“I see.” Ardyn’s voice went flat as if all the interest flew right of him.

Ignis pressed forward. “…Of course, we would do all the work ourselves. I can have a group of people here tomorrow to gather the curatives and then we would be on our way. No fighting, no insults or ulterior motives. Just the potions and elixirs and then—”

“Stop, stop. Enough. I get the idea.” Ardyn sighed deeply. Then Ignis heard another sound. Some fricative motion. Perhaps Ardyn was rubbing the stubble on his chin. “You know…this is not a bank, my dear. Nor is it a market place for you and the rest of your band of ragtag hunters to barter with.”

“…Certainly, but—”

“I said enough. Now, let me think.” Ardyn paused for a moment. Putting on a show in a sarcastic voice. “Hmm, well…this is after all his Majesty’s residence. What business do we, the lower class of society, have with any of His belongings? I’m just the caretaker. And therefore I have a responsibility to make sure everything remains just as it was for his Majesty when He returns.

So, I say…no. No trailers coming in nor out. No healing supplies for your little outfit. Sorry.” 

Right. As expected. The first offer was the long shot to gauge interest and to let Ardyn know what he was after. And, naturally, it seemed Ardyn was in this just to be a prick. Again, as expected. 

“Very well,” Ignis replied, unshaken. He adjusted his cane and tapped once, quietly, taking a step towards Ardyn. “In that case, I have a proposition for you.”

Ardyn sighed, turning his back. “No bartering, remember? Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Ignis hurried and closed the distance between them. He was close enough to be able to smell Ardyn now—smoky and musky; a mix of old, unclean clothes and darkly spiced cologne. The scent was strong, somehow synonymous with the man himself. Ignis would not soon forget it.

Ardyn stopped walking when the blind man approached, half-turning around to face him. Surprised by how near Ignis would dare to come, probably.

Sensing some interest again, Ignis smiled lightly. “But, sir, you have not heard the terms yet.” 

Ardyn huffed a small breath. “Honestly, what could you have that I would possibly want? Weren’t you the one in dire straits? Tapping your way in here like a beggar off the streets—”

“True. Still, I believe I know something you might be interested in.” Ignis reached out with one hand, closing his fingers around Ardyn’s shoulder. 

His grip was light. But the physical touch was enough to shock both of them for a brief moment. Ardyn’s jacket material gave way under the blind man’s fingers and for some reason that surprised Ignis. He could feel muscle and bones underneath the coat. A human body. 

…What else had he imagined? That Ardyn would be made of cold steel? Or some foul daemonic essence? Ignis did not know what he had expected, but it was irrelevant. Ardyn was within his grasp. He needed to seal the deal. 

“What, then?” the immortal asked, low and quiet. A laugh pulling on the edge of his voice.

Saying nothing, Ignis trailed his hand down Ardyn’s shoulder. Slowly. Pointedly.

Ardyn’s breath stopped for just a second. 

Ignis took it as all the license in the world. He let his hand trail back up, rubbing the side of Ardyn’s shoulder as if he were consoling a friend over some small trial. He repeated the motion a few times, feeling victorious when Ardyn took a fraction of a step closer to him. 

Yes. An angle. Ignis’s mind went blank for a moment as his suspicions were proven true. That this was possible, and even the reality…! 

But not quite yet. Ardyn spoke again and he did not sound entirely moved. “So…what? Your companionship? …Your body?” 

Ignis heard and felt Ardyn shaking his head side to side. Slowly, in disbelief. “My, how the royal entourage has fallen. If only your precious king could see you now.His lifelong retainer propositioning me like a whore…” 

“Not…my body, exactly,” Ignis corrected. Undeterred by the insults. 

He dragged his hand all the way down Ardyn’s arm until he reached the cuff of the older man’s jacket. His bare wrist. Ignis wrapped his fingers around Ardyn’s wrist and gently twisted his grip. 

He heard the immortal suck in a quick breath. 

Nodding, Ignis slid his hand over Ardyn’s much wider fist. That fist relaxed under Ignis’s touch, almost instinctually, and Ignis took the opportunity to curl his fingers around the older man’s palm. That palm was hard and a little cold. But it warmed quickly—a sign that there was in fact human blood underneath. 

“Just this,” Ignis explained in a soft voice. “And this.” 

To explain, the blind man drew small circles into Ardyn’s palm with his thumb. He stroked the back of Ardyn’s hand, feeling his way up to Ardyn’s long middle finger. Then back down again.

Ignis heard a small grunt. He turned his ear toward Ardyn and repeated the motion, caressing the older man’s hand. This time he heard Ardyn breathe out a shaky sigh. 

The temperature between them was not so cold anymore. 

Ardyn said nothing and made no motion to pull away. Ignis wished he could see the man’s face to gather more information, but…instead, he listened to Ardyn’s erratic breathing. The weak pulse fluttering under his fingers.

Ignis’s theories were correct. Ardyn was desperate for touch. This—of all the damn things anyone could have thought of—would be the way to reach him.

Relief was Ignis’s strongest feeling in that moment. Ardyn’s drawn-out witticism had died down (thankfully), leaving space for the advisor to breathe. He allowed himself a grateful smile—really, he sensed no danger, and everything was going accordingly. He continued to stroke Ardyn’s hand, making his touch light, alternating his speed. Fast, then slow. Always soft. 

“Mmm…” Ardyn groaned. A clear sign of enjoyment. 

“Yes,” Ignis began thoughtfully, trailing his hand further up Ardyn’s wrist. He slid his fingers underneath that coat sleeve and deftly undid the cufflinks of the older man’s dress shirt. His fingers explored the newly exposed skin, unfaltering even when Ardyn tried to pull away.

“I suppose I’ve known for a while that you wanted this,” Ignis continued, tracing circles into the soft skin on the underside of Ardyn’s forearm. “Ever since that night before you took us to the Disc of Cauthess. I saw the way you reacted to Prompto. Perhaps you thought no one noticed your little…predicament. But I did.” 

The immortal clicked his teeth. He tried to pull away again, but Ignis held him fast. Clearly Ardyn was not using his full strength, nor any of his magic. He was not fighting this for real. Not at all.

Good.

Ignis turned Ardyn’s hand over. He stroked his fingers up and down the inside of the older man’s wrist. Judging by the breathing and tiny flinches, this was where Ardyn was the most sensitive. 

“And such a small thing as this is really of no consequence to me,” Ignis asserted, speaking over Ardyn’s sharp intakes of breath. “I can give it to you whenever you like. As long as I have the time, that is.” 

“…And…your proposition…?” Ardyn asked. He tried to turn his wrist over to hide it underneath his sleeve. He failed.

“Did I not say?” Ignis answered. “I’m here for the medical supplies in the armament. And, of course, if you agree to that then…I can give you a little more of this in return.” 

Deciding to up the ante, Ignis raised Ardyn’s hand to his own face. He rubbed his cheek against the backs of Ardyn’s fingers. A few times, ever so lightly. Once, he let those fingers come dangerously close to his mouth…before dropping Ardyn’s hand altogether and taking a few steps back.

The immortal lurched forward. As if to follow Ignis. A clear tell. 

How sloppy, really, Ignis thought. Such a tip of the hand. Now the advisor knew he had him. Somehow, because of this, he had him.

Still. No reason to be hasty.

Ignis gathered his cane and walked away slowly. “I’ll give you some time to think it over,” he said to Ardyn on his way out. “Perhaps tomorrow is enough time? Maybe the day after?”

The older man said nothing at first. Stunned into silence. Then he suddenly exhaled a large breath and called out, “If you come to the Citadel again…it will be only because I’ve allowed it. Make no mistake, you’re alive right now because I have decided to indulge this little game of yours.”

Ignis kept walking. “Of course.”

“And…” Ardyn followed him for a few steps. “If you do come again, there is no guarantee I will not have you torn to shreds at the gate. Knowing that, you can decide for yourself if these medical supplies are really worth that risk.”

By now, Ignis was already down the hall. “Alright. Tomorrow then?” 

With that, he tapped his way out of the Citadel untouched. Just as he came. 

The daemons on the road home seemed more subdued to Ignis. Either that, or he was not nearly as impressed by their power. That dark essence seemed—just a tad bit—like a mirage. Smoke and mirrors, made to impress. 

And Ignis had seen through the trick.

_________________________________________________________ 

Fuck. Well not really fuck, but. _Motherfucker._

Ardyn pushed past the door to the throne room, letting the mahogany slam against the stone wall. The resounding boom did nothing to dissipate his rage. 

If anything, that sound confirmed that Ardyn had indeed allowed all of that to happen just now. This was real. He had faltered.

Him. He had faltered to _that_ …

_That cocky, insolent, stupid, crippled little…piece of shit!_ The cacophony of daemons—ever present in Ardyn’s mind—had worked themselves into a frenzy. They despised Ignis. Had always kind of hated him—that man saw too much when he still had his eyesight. And even now. That sly bastard was as perceptive as ever! Somehow…somehow.

Ardyn climbed the stairs to the throne, cursing in the old tongue. His favorite way to swear (he could imagine he heard the Astrals weeping every time he profaned in the language of Solheim). Growling out an ancient curse with more than seven syllables, Ardyn threw himself down into the seat of the throne. 

This usually made him feel better. Resting his feet against the arms of the throne. Letting the daemonic essence within him buck up against the holy, Crystal-blessed chair. Like throwing a lightning spell into a small pond. The shockwaves rippled across the water for hours, just like the blasphemous magic lingered against the King’s throne whenever Ardyn sat there.

The daemons—usually roaring with laughter by now—quieted to an angry hiss as they soaked up the magic. Finally Ardyn could think a little, without a mess of dueling consciousnesses screaming inside his head. He balanced his elbow on the ornate armrest and rubbed his forehead. Frustrated, compounded with a sudden tiredness. A frustration that…well. Ardyn felt it in his very bones.

Ignis had found a way to...

He knew. Somehow, that blind fucker knew. He knew a way to get to him.

It took a few moments for Ardyn to soothe his own furious thoughts. Enough to actually think around the problem. 

More than anything, Ardyn would say he was angry with himself. This whole thing was his own fault, really. Exactly how long had it been since Ardyn last indulged in pleasures of the flesh? A hundred years? No, even longer. Two hundred? Perhaps even more than that…

But…Ardyn looked down at his hand, perplexed. He had thought he was passed all that! As the centuries wore on, his interest in sex naturally waned. By the second millennia, Ardyn hardly even masturbated anymore. The only pleasure—sexual or otherwise—Ardyn derived from the world was the thought that he would have his revenge. That he would kill Noctis and shame the Astrals forever more. 

(And sometimes, on days when Ardyn’s head was clearest…the thought that Noctis would kill him. Just fucking end this already. Ardyn had waited long enough. It was _time_. The idea of dying at last was practically welcome. …Maybe a bit more than practically.)

So, well, yes. Promises of death and vengeance. These were the things Ardyn enjoyed out of his immortal life. He gave up on sex a while ago. Even the kinkiest, most depraved sexual acts (the unspeakable—things a mere mortal’s soul would never come back from) seemed dull to Ardyn now. 

What was the damn point?

_“The night before you took us to the Disc of Cauthess.”_

Of course Ardyn remembered that godsforsaken night. Prompto, a little drunk, had spilled beer on him and then inexplicably found it necessary to put his hands all over Ardyn’s body. 

It was the first time Ardyn had been touched by human hands in…however long. 

Even then, the touch was not so unbearable at first. Prompto hands were awkward and fumbling. More of a nuisance than anything. 

But of course. Ignis was right. There was that brief moment—hardly memorable at all, to anyone—when Prompto’s fingers grazed his bare neck. 

That feeling. Human fingers against his skin. Ardyn could remember vividly how his body shook, right there in front of them all. The blonde boy’s fingers were warm, pumping with blood. They made his skin tingle with their unassuming touch. His presence so near to Ardyn’s own. Gentle and unthreatening. Natural…

Ardyn had gotten his first erection in centuries all because of Prompto’s clumsy fingers.

His body—at least the mortal side of him—still craved physical contact from other humans. It seemed a body, even one riddled with daemons like Ardyn’s, could never fully get rid of its longing to be near another person. 

At the time, Ardyn had automatically moved to cover up his inappropriate hard-on. No one at camp (those infantile dullards that called themselves Crownsguard) seemed to notice.

No one, it seemed, except for Ignis. Damn that chamberlain’s quick little eyes. (Well. Whatever was left of them.)

But that incident had occurred over two years ago. Ardyn forced himself to forget it. If his skin ached every now and then—it didn’t, of course—but even if it did—sometimes, hardly at all…

…His skin and underneath. There were times when Ardyn felt a harsh longing just beneath the surface of his mortal shell. He would pass his fingers along his neck, reminiscent of the way Prompto had accidentally done. And, oh, yes. It felt marvelous. Though still not quite as good as that blonde boy’s touch.

Regardless of his unruly flesh and any lingering human needs clinging to the last vestiges of Ardyn’s soul, masturbation was out of the question. No way the Accursed would break his dry spell of centuries for something as laughable as an unintentional passing graze. 

The hardness between his legs flagged easily enough, anyway. Ardyn just needed to focus on his next moves. What would he do to Noctis when he emerged from the Crystal? How could he fuck with humanity for these next few years? These thoughts provided decent distraction.

Ardyn had so little patience for human needs. And even less time. There were plans to see to! Thousands of years in the making!

That was more than enough to occupy him. Or, it should have been.

Then, in walked this fallen royal advisor. Tapping his way into the Citadel, strolling up into the throne room. Bold as brass. Speaking to Ardyn like the older man was something other than humanity’s long-forgotten curse. Their fated nemesis. Ignis spoke to Ardyn like he was…an official. An equal.

Baffling. But not boring, at least.

Ardyn heard him out. Just a foolish, selfish request for medical supplies. How dull. 

And yet…

Ignis was anything but dull. He had seen Ardyn’s weakness and approached him, pinpointing Ardyn’s location precisely somehow despite his blindness. Without sparing a thought to his own welfare, Ignis touched him.

That man’s touch…

Ardyn looked down at his hand where Ignis’s fingers had caressed him. He could almost still feel them there. A soft mark burnt into his flesh, not painful. (For the love of Eos, not painful.) Just gentle and distantly warm. Ignis had competent fingers. He knew where to touch to make Ardyn’s humanity flutter. His…(oh fuck, just say it) heart. 

Ignis was confident. He stood tall, using the obligatory cane like some kind of expert, unhindered by his shockingly unfair fate. He had regarded Ardyn calmly, simply stating that he knew what Ardyn wanted. And that he was willing to give it to him.

Not for free.

_Obviously! It’s all tricks. Lies, deceit. A human’s last resort, promises of the flesh! Nothing. Nothing, absolutely nothing…!_

Ardyn sighed. He heard the daemons and ultimately he knew they were right. This was a trick and Ardyn was to blame for allowing it to happen. He had stood there like a fool, cowed into silence by Ignis’s touch. A thrall to his own weak flesh. 

Ardyn should have killed Ignis right then and there. For figuring out the truth. He should have had the daemons rip him apart before the blind man left the Citadel. 

He should have had sex with someone to satisfy his frayed desires before now. He should have given in and masturbated at least, so that he would not be so vulnerable when the time came. 

He should have…done many things.

Yet, here Ardyn sat. On the pitiful royal throne, nothing but the haunted shadows of the past and the daemons in his mind for company. 

That lingering want…that sudden comfort…still very fresh in his mind. His manhood had gone soft (thankfully, though walking back to the throne room had been painful). But the rest of him could not forget what it felt like to be touched by Ignis.

Hesitantly, Ardyn dragged his fingers over his own wrist. He shivered. It felt good. So he did it again, a little harder. That time felt…less good. On the third pass, Ardyn barely felt anything at all. 

His own hands were familiar. Burly and unpracticed. Nothing at all like Ignis’s. They did not feel the same and…they never would. Ardyn realized that in a rush of frustration and— Sadness.

Sad? Him? …now?

Okay, that was funny. Finally seeing the humorous side to all this (such ridiculous irony), Ardyn allowed himself a small laugh. To think that he would be foiled by the blind one. The uptight one, the bookish one with the overbite. Ignis.

Well, it was pretty hilarious. Ardyn rumbled with laughter in spite of everything. 

Stupid as ever, the daemons laughed with him. They delighted in self deprecating humor at Ardyn’s expense, after all. Even if they had no idea what they were really laughing it.

The immortal looked around the throne room. This place was the same. Dark and slightly dirty from lack of care. Dingy. 

In some small part of his mind, Ardyn realized that it was boring just sitting there. He knew Noctis would still be gone for a while. The rest of humanity was barely scraping by, so there were no pitiful mortals left to torture as a way to pass the time (torturing the beleaguered yielded almost no entertainment). 

And there was Ignis. That blind man offered a dangerous but fascinating piece of distraction. Ardyn sat for a while in thought. …How far could Ignis take him, just by touching him? What were the limits of Ignis’s proposition? What would he ask of Ardyn next? 

Interesting questions. 

Perhaps the next time Ignis arrived, Ardyn would not eviscerate him on sight. Even if Ignis knew about Ardyn’s slight weakness, the arrangement was only between the two of them. This was perhaps the best time for Ardyn to fully mine of the depths of his leftover humanity. 

The last time.

Once it was over—either when Ignis or Ardyn tired of the agreement, or Noctis woke up, whichever came first—Ardyn could go back to his original plans.

For the time being, there was no harm in giving in. Perhaps it would even be prudent. Scratch an itch, move on. Ardyn would probably be the first to tire of such banal contact. Then the whole affair would be nothing but a footnote in the dark interim of Noctis’s slumber. 

_It’s a trick. Don’t give in…_

_Or give in. You can laugh at him behind his back._

Those were the choices. With the daemons divided, Ardyn was able to freely decide for himself. 

…Tomorrow, Ignis had said?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter to be up soon! Here's hoping I can hammer out the details.
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!!


	3. Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis is ready to deliver, if Ardyn is.

Before Ardyn made any decisions, he checked the stockpile of medical supplies Ignis had spoken about. Indeed, there was a veritable treasure trove. Ardyn vaguely pondered what the royal family had planned to do with all these curatives. Hoarding them for an outbreak? Well that was a little selfish. Perhaps keeping them in case of an emergency, like an invasion? 

Not that this stockpile had helped at all once Insomnia went through an actual siege. The Niflheim army tore through the Citadel like tissue paper and these potions had barely been touched.

Laughable.

Regardless, Ardyn felt like he could give Ignis a box or two of medical supplies. Just for his display of gumption—Ardyn appreciated good determination after all. And it wasn’t like he actually needed these potions for anything else. Might as well give them to the humans in their hopeless struggle. 

If that man ever came back again. Which he probably wouldn’t. Ardyn cooled his heels the whole next day and sure enough, Ignis did not arrive.

Shaking his head, Ardyn conjectured about Ignis’s suspicious absence. Hadn’t he said he would there tomorrow? That meant today didn’t it? (Although the passage of time was a little ambiguous these days with the lack of sunlight. But 24 hours was 24 hours.) 

Why had Ignis not shown up? Perhaps Ardyn’s warning hit home and he re-thought his odds of survival. 

Doubtful. Ignis had not been intimidated by the daemons nor by Ardyn’s idle threats. It seemed, in fact, that Ignis was hardly deterred by anything. 

Of course, Ardyn would admit he was a little impressed by that. There was very little chance such a man would actually be frightened off. 

So, what then? Perhaps Ignis had other business to attend to. Something, who knew what? Perhaps Ignis had faced a particularly blood-thirsty daemon on his way to or from the Citadel and already perished. _That_ would be hysterical. Ignis dying from some ancillary thing, nothing to do with Ardyn. The immortal almost hoped that was the truth.

But part of him would also be a little—a small sliver of a fraction—disappointed. For Ignis to come to his palace and boast so confidently, only to die like any other mortal. Bit of a letdown.

_The hands, too…_

Ardyn heard that voice in his head (certainly a daemon reminding him of his basest desires) and quickly snuffed it out. He did not have much control over the consciousnesses inside of him, but he could silence one or two if the need arose. And this one was particularly weak, he found. It put up almost no fight when Ardyn grabbed it by the throat and forced it down into the depths of his awareness. 

That aside, none of this really mattered.

Still, the following day, when Ardyn sensed a foreign entity crossing the threshold of the Citadel, he immediately went to greet the man. Definitely not boring now, he thought, listening to rhythmic tapping of Ignis making his way across the courtyard and up the stairs. 

Ardyn decided to meet Ignis in the Citadel lobby. Why let him get all the way to the throne room? Their business could be handled outside. Ignis did not need to get any further into the palace, any deeper into Ardyn’s claimed personal realm.

“Well, well…” Ardyn began immediately, as soon as Ignis opened the humongous doors to the palace lobby. “The prodigal chamberlain returns!” 

Ignis turned to face him. He paused for a moment in the doorway and then strode forward in the immortal’s direction. The doors slammed closed behind him. 

“Meeting me at the doorway,” the man in dark glasses commented. A small smirk played around his lips. “Should I take that as a sign of eagerness or a sign that I am unwelcome?” 

Ardyn crossed his arms, smirking back in return. “In fact, you should take it as disbelief. I hardly thought you would return when you failed to meet me yesterday. Aren’t you a day late?” 

Ignis turned his head to the side thoughtfully. “I thought you might need another day to consider my proposition.” He strode up to Ardyn—not as close as he had come the other day, but more than close enough. “Apologies, if you were waiting on my arrival.” 

“Hardly,” Ardyn said, a muscle in his jaw twitching in irritation. He hadn’t been waiting, obviously. 

…And if you said you were going to arrive at a certain time, wouldn’t anyone expect you? Ignis was just being coquettish now.

_Piece of shit…_

The daemons reared their heads in anger. Was Ignis toying with him? How fucking full of himself could he get? Ardyn might need to remind the blind man of the vast difference in their power.

Flicking his hand through the air nonchalantly, Ardyn smiled and said, “I thought perhaps you had been slaughtered by a daemon somewhere on the road. In my experience, you mortals come and go rather quickly. And the night is so perilous, isn’t it? I just assumed you’d met your end, my dear.” 

Ignis raised his chin, processing that. His face remained stoic—partially hidden by the dark glasses, concealing a shadow of scarred eyes that Ardyn could barely make out and did not particular care about. That smirk on his lips had lasted scant seconds. Now Ignis was just…unreadable. 

The Accursed narrowed his eyes as he looked the tactician up and down. Slim body—perhaps slimmer and a bit more lithe than Ardyn remembered. Standing ramrod straight. Gripping his cane in one firm hand. Still somehow impeccably dressed…clean black clothes and worn but fashionable shoes.

Proud, Ardyn would say. Ignis carried the kind of pride that kept itself muted, but never invisible. Present even in the face of danger or uncertainty. Ardyn stared at him in mild fascination.

Ignis gestured to his own chest and downward, putting himself on display. (Had he somehow known Ardyn was staring?) 

“Not dead,” the tactician asserted. “As you can see.” 

“Yes, quite.” Ardyn decided he would keep staring at Ignis. In fact, he wanted to keep his eyes trained on the other man, never straying for a second. As if constant vigilance could reveal some hidden truth about him.

“…Now, what brings you here today, my good man?” Ardyn inquired, though obviously he already knew.

“I’m here to make good on my end of the bargain.” Tilting his head downward, Ignis tapped his cane against the tile of the entrance way. He walked to the left and tapped again. 

Searching for something.

Ardyn watched, unmoved. “Still think you can barter with me?” 

“Well, I was clear on the terms of the agreement, wasn’t I?” Ignis walked forward with one hand stretched in front of him. 

A few more feet and he found what he was looking for. There was a long couch across from the elevators. It was meant to give visitors a place to sit down while they waited to be received by the royal servants. A garishly patterned thing, probably mostly for show. Ignis latched onto the back of the couch with one hand, then turned to face Ardyn again. 

“Shall we begin?” he asked. His demeanor was not intimidating nor grim. He looked like a man about to begin work for the day. Some normal task. 

Ardyn—who had not looked away from Ignis for a second—immediately felt pulled in by that look. So…natural. Not inviting, per se, but not unhappy either. Not forced. Just ready for him.

The immortal blinked, walking towards him. His mouth suddenly felt dry and there were whispers running back and forth in his head. But he could not seem to care about anything other than this current moment.

He had thought…well. Ardyn had imagined Ignis would be not-so-secretly disgusted by all this. The man was being coerced, wasn't he? This was all part of the deal. Ardyn thought Ignis would just keep a stiff upper lip and bear the whole thing with a solemn face, but…

Ignis looked relaxed. His face had not changed at all. His movements were smooth. 

He gestured to the couch. “Would you care to sit down?” 

Ardyn sat. 

He felt a brief flutter of panic in his chest all of a sudden. Ignis walked behind him, standing tall above Ardyn. That should have felt wrong, dangerous perhaps, but that was not the problem.

Ardyn was eager. He could smell Ignis—a fresh, clean kind of scent; body wash and detergent, over a lingering smell of cooked stew, perhaps what he had made for breakfast. He could feel the man’s presence. Everything that had happened between them last time clouded the air between them. This was not just two men sitting. This was…intimate. 

Ignis knew what Ardyn wanted. He was about to give it to him.

The strange twitter in the immortal’s ribs solidified. He went rigid for a moment, uncertain if he should jump to his feet and put an end to this right away. Of course Ignis could not hurt him—even if the man ran a dagger over his throat, Ardyn would not die. They both knew that. But Ignis could…affect him. He could make Ardyn feel something. Feel _that_ , tension and longing slithering across his skin in the most exquisite way. 

Knowing that Ignis held that power—and knowing that Ignis intended to use it—made Ardyn feel…vulnerable. His muscled tightened and he summoned a thin veil of darkness around his feet. Just in case. Ready for anything.

Whether Ignis sensed the presence of dark magic or not, he said nothing. Unhurried, the man put one slender hand on Ardyn’s shoulder and rested it there for a moment. 

“You feel tense,” Ignis observed. Casually. “Perhaps we should start with a brief massage. You know, I’ve been lauded in the past for a gentle touch. I can promise it won’t hurt, even though you probably haven’t had one in quite some time.”

Without waiting for an answer, Ignis put his second hand on Ardyn’s other shoulder. Then he _squeezed_ —not hard, but enough that Ardyn could feel Ignis’s grip in his muscles. 

Tense shoulders relaxed. Ardyn felt his muscles unclenching involuntarily, yielding to Ignis. When the man squeezed again, the immortal felt each one of Ignis’s ten fingers pressing down on him. Rubbing a soreness underneath that Ardyn hardly even knew was there. 

Right, this was his body. Ardyn had not been aware of his body in some time, but now he remembered the presence of his own muscles. There they were, as always. Ignis had found them so easily.

“Might I…remove your outer jacket for a moment?” Ignis’s voice was quiet and deep. Ardyn jumped a little at the sudden sound—he had not been expecting it. But the sheer timbre of it…he instantly knew he could listen to Ignis talk about the weather and be enthralled.

“…yes,” Ardyn answered, without thinking. 

Ignis dragged his hands up to Ardyn’s collar. His fingers just barely brushed the skin on Ardyn’s neck, pulling his long jacket open. The immortal gasped, realizing he was as hard as a steel plate between his legs. 

Shit. Just this was enough, then?

He had seen this coming, but to actually experience it…well, suffice to say, Ardyn did not regret his willingness to give this a try.

This was incredible!

Ignis pulled Ardyn’s coat off his shoulders, letting it hang around the older man’s elbows. Not totally off, but out of the way. He pushed aside the scarf as well, until the only barrier between them was Ardyn’s high-collared dress shirt. 

“Try to relax a bit,” the blind tactician instructed. “If you keep yourself tense, you might feel some pain.” 

Ardyn said nothing. He wanted to scoff a response about how pain had become as natural as breathing to him over the years, to laugh even at the idea.

But more than that, he could not help being confused why Ignis would warn him about that. What did Ignis care if Ardyn was at all uncomfortable? Really, Ignis had Ardyn at his fingers. Wouldn’t he want to jab at him, even just a little, as revenge for all the hell Ardyn put him through over the years? Ramuh’s balls, he could stab Ardyn in the neck right here and it wouldn’t be adequate recompense for all that Ardyn had done to Ignis and his friends.

But instead, no. Ignis was telling him to relax. So he could enjoy it?

Well, it seemed that Ignis was a man of his word. Almost painfully succinct. The arrangement was to make Ardyn feel good and he would follow that through to the letter. 

That had to be the reason, Ardyn thought, as Ignis caressed both his shoulders again. Ignis would probably like nothing better than to drive a knife right into his heart right now. Who wouldn’t, in his shoes?

Though, admittedly…Ardyn could not sense any malice in Ignis’s touch. Just a confident grip. Fingers pressing downward gently, carefully. Fucking…carefully…

Ardyn moaned softly as a tight coil of pleasure unwound in his belly. 

Ignis’s thumbs dug harder into the muscles around Ardyn’s shoulder blades. Ardyn hunched for a moment, then instantly relaxed when Ignis tapped his collarbones in reminder. Those thumbs worked into him at a clever angle. They excavated a deep pain from somewhere inside, soothing it away with quick rubs. 

“Yes, there’s a lot of tension right here,” Ignis noted. 

He pushed a little harder and Ardyn’s muscles unravelled a bit more. Without realizing, the immortal slid down against the couch. He wanted Ignis to keep massaging him, but he could hardly stay in one position with those hands poking around, finding all his weak spots. 

“Nnnh…” Ardyn groaned as Ignis’s touch softened. To give counterbalance to the tight massage, Ignis stroked Ardyn’s shoulders with both palms. The smooth motion spread all the tension outward and away…somehow.

“Does that feel better?” the tactician asked, barely above a whisper.

“It….yes…” Ardyn struggled to say. 

He did not know he had been feeling sore to begin with, but now he certainly felt looser. Calmer, even. 

Despite the raging hard-on jutting up in his lap. There was some small relief in the fact that Ignis could not see, because the Accursed’s erection was painfully obvious. Pushing up insistently, thick and throbbing, against the fly of Ardyn’s dress pants. 

Ignis patted Ardyn’s shoulders, sliding his hands downward until his fingers grazed the top of the older man’s pectoral muscles. He pressed lightly on those muscles and Ardyn fell back against the chair with a groan. 

“Mmm, here as well…” Ignis mused, rubbing small circles into Ardyn’s chest. “Rather tight.” 

Ardyn’s body felt like it was floating. He was aware of the dark magic, the Scourge in and around him, and he was aware of the couch and floor beneath him. But his body…his body felt alarmingly real. Realer than anything else. Above everything. More noticeable and more salient than it had in so, so many years. 

“You should do some light stretches every so often,” the younger man advised. “Just to keep your muscles limber. Especially…well. I was going to say at your age, but I’m afraid there is no medical advice on record for one of your years.” 

Ardyn glanced up and caught Ignis smiling to himself. He tried to figure out if that was an insult, but he really could not tell. Ignis appeared to be laughing at something only he found funny. Though, Ardyn did not feel offended.

Why did Ignis take this all so lightly? Any other person would be furious at having to touch Ardyn. Yet Ignis felt carefree enough to even joke about it. 

“What…are you thinking…?” Ardyn mumbled, raising his own hands to cover Ignis’s. He wanted to feel those hands for himself. 

And they did not disappoint. Bony and slim, but with steadfast power that Ardyn could sense even in the fingers and certainly in the knuckles. Manly in their own way. Strong but not imposing. Mmm, these hands…

“Oh…” Ardyn moaned before he could stop himself. He dropped his head onto Ignis’s wrist, inhaling deeply to ingratiate the man’s smell into his brain. 

He wanted to remember this smell. The sweetest, most tantalizing thing he could remember smelling in at least a thousand years. Especially now. When everything was darkness and dust...

Ignis’s particular scent and indomitable power cut through all of that. Ardyn squeezed his eyes closed and focused on the feel of living human flesh against his face. Warm and breathing. The immortal rubbed his face against the back of Ignis’s hands, lips sliding against the prominent, delicate knuckles. He kissed those knuckles out of instinct.

He desired, more than anything, to stay just like that.

Then, slowly, before he knew what was happening and could stop it, those hands slid out of his grip. Ardyn was left grasping empty air. He felt painful absence in the wake of that touch.

Ardyn jerked awake—almost like he had been lulled into some kind of unnatural sleep. He had definitely passed out of the reach of his own wits for a few moments there. And yes, crashing back into his usual, Scourge-ridden body felt like taking a swig of sewer water. 

He narrowed his eyes and looked up at Ignis.

The blind man collected his cane and take a few steps away from the couch. “I think that’s enough for now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ardyn licked his lips. He had been hoping to taste a bit of Ignis’s flesh left over on his mouth, but there was nothing.

…Rationality returned. Yes, better to stop for now. That had been…a bit more intense than Ardyn anticipated. 

“Agreed…” Ardyn said, adjusting his manhood with one hand and twisting his body around to face Ignis. 

“Will you retrieve some boxes of medical supplies for me, then?” Ignis asked, straightening his back and looking suddenly serious.

That serious face. Ardyn smirked. It was actually kind of…eh, whatever. 

“For you, my dear, I will give you a whole truckload. How does that sound?” Ardyn thought that was reasonable. Ignis’s performance had defied expectations so he might as well respond in kind. And one truckload was a pittance compared to the stockpile itself. 

Ignis’s eyebrows bounced in surprise. “That’s…thank you. But…I cannot drive the truck…”

Oh, right. Ardyn took a deep breath, settling back into his normal reality. The abject present. He looked Ignis up and down, not sure what he was trying to see, but enjoying the sight all the same.

“Not a problem.” The immortal rose to his feet. “Come back tomorrow with a friend of yours who can do the driving. I’ll have the truck parked at the western-most gate. Alright?”

Ignis nodded, bowing slightly. “Yes, I’ll do that. And I’ll…return again in a few months time for another shipment.” He paused. “Again, this is greatly appreciated.”

“Mmm…” Ardyn was fully grinning now. “And he’s polite, too. I suppose you’re quite the catch, aren’t you?” 

The immortal rolled his shoulders hesitantly. They still felt loose. In a good way. Beyond that, Ardyn’s mood was markedly better than it had been early. He felt almost like joking or giving Ignis more than they bargained for. 

Either way, he wanted to be there the following day (from a distance, a nondescript hiding place) when Ignis came to pick up the goods. He wanted to see the look of surprise on the blind man’s face.

Right now Ignis was smirking in that distantly amused way he had. Ardyn liked that. 

“Well, then.” The tactician made his way to the front door. Before he left, he turned around and said, “Do remember to do some of those stretches I mentioned. You’ll feel better in the long run, you know.” 

With that, he departed.

Ardyn blinked around the suddenly emptiness of the Citadel. The daemons stirred to life immediately, chomping at the bit to scream and laugh in equal measure at all the events that had just taken place. 

Letting them run wild, Ardyn decided he had better get the truck ready quickly. If he delivered the promised potions in good bounty, Ignis might return faster. 

He rubbed his lips where they had touched Ignis’s knuckles. He reasoned that Ignis would probably keep coming back until the armament was dried up. Any man would, once they realized they had a reliable source of resources at their fingertips. (Literally, in this case.) 

…Good.

___________________________________________________________________

That night, Gladiolus returned from Lestallum. Ignis, Cindy, Prompto, and a smattering of other hunters were sitting in the diner when the Shield arrived. Right on cue, there was a lot of applause and cheering. Gladiolus pulled Ignis into a quick half-hug in recognition. 

Ignis assessed that Gladiolus was weary, but he did not feel any obvious wounds. Nothing fatal, anyway. 

Thank the six.

After a good meal, they all proceeded on to their normal tasks. It was Prompto’s turn to keep watch. Ignis and Gladiolus could head straight to bed. 

Ignis stretched his hands. He could still feel the incongruously smooth material of Ardyn’s dress shirt against the skin of his palms. Still smell a dark, spicy fragrance on the edge of his nose. 

…He was definitely tired. In need of more than a little sleep. 

As he laid in the caravan with Gladiolus, he told his friend about a potential shipment of medical supplies at the western-most gate of Insomnia.

“Insomnia?” Gladiolus barked. “The hell’s a shipment doing there?” 

“It’s just a hunch.” Ignis shook his head and waved one hand, as if he was not so sure the shipment was real. And, to be fair, he wasn’t. “A rumor I happened to overhear.”

Even though he had reservations, Gladiolus agreed to go with Ignis to get the goods. 

The following day, Gladiolus and Ignis arrived at the gate to find not a truck but a decently sized tractor-trailer waiting for them. At least twice what Ignis had been expecting.

“What…the…fuck…?” Gladiolus breathed, circling the trailer over and over. As if he were trying to decide whether it was some kind of mirage.

Ignis ran his hand from the front grill of the truck all the way to the back, gauging its overall size. He urged Gladiolus to take a look in the back.

“Holy…” Gladiolus whistled. 

“How many boxes?” Ignis demanded, almost breathless.

“I’d say…at least a hundred.” Gladiolus walked into the trailer, counting boxes under his breath. When he returned, he walked right up to Ignis and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Iggy…this is gonna save a lot of lives in Lestallum. They’re hurtin’ pretty bad over there.”

The former advisor patted Gladiolus’s hand and nodded. “Understood. We’ll head out post-haste to distribute curatives around the city.” 

“Tch…” Ignis could hear Gladiolus shaking his head rapidly. 

With the Shield in the driver’s seat, Ignis sitting on the passenger side, they began the drive to Hammerhead and then directly to Lestallum. Along the way, Gladiolus turned to his long-time comrade and said, “If you’re into some shady shit, Iggy, you’d better tell me right now.”

Ignis twisted his grip around his cane. “…Nothing shady, I assure you.” 

Gladiolus paused. Then he sighed and said, “Fine. Just don’t go getting yourself killed. Or I’ll literally never forgive you.”

“Yes, noted. I’ll do my best to stay breathing then, shall I?” 

Turning his face toward the window, Ignis went quiet. As planned, they drove to Lestallum that night to hand out some medical supplies. Just as the Shield promised, many lives were saved because of that shipment alone.

Gladiolus never asked again where Ignis got the goods from. 

It wasn’t that Ignis felt ashamed to tell his friend about his arrangement with Ardyn. He was honestly proud. He had found a way to reach their worst enemy and get them to work together—a thing certainly no one else had ever managed.

But the deal felt…delicate. Like it would shatter if Ignis spoke aloud about the details. The tactician did not know why, but he just had that feeling. So there it was. Indeed, intuition was nothing to scoff at these days.

Therefore, he kept quiet.

A month’s time found him right back at the Citadel. Ready to make another deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand I still don't know how this will end up being. But it's super fun so far, so I'll keep at it ;)


	4. Ante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're able to find a balance, but it's precarious at best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking at the tags, I feel like this story sounds more sexual than maybe it is...? 
> 
> Oh well! Onward.

Their encounters became a regular thing. Ignis arrived every month, on the dot, ready to stroke Ardyn gently in exchange for another robust shipment of medical supplies. Each time, Ignis massaged Ardyn’s tight shoulders over his clothes, ran his hands over the older man’s long arms. And each time, Ardyn made sure to have another trailer ready for him the following day.

They continued on like this for about six months. A little more than half a year.

Ardyn was beside himself—in more ways than one. To begin with, his skin became horribly unruly after that first time. Not even a day after Ignis left, Ardyn immediately hungered for more. A kind of hunger that came from a place so deep inside of him…his core. The central part of his soul that retained all his human needs. He had to clench his jaw and squeeze his fists open and closed from time to time, just to manage that desire Ignis had unearthed.

It kind of scared him. It was so intense. Some days, all he could do was sit (even on the throne, anywhere, it didn’t matter) and think about Ignis’s hands. What it felt like to be touched and rubbed, to lose track of his own thoughts and surrender to physical sensation again. 

Physical sensation was a hell of a thing.

The need drove him mad enough that Ardyn decided to give in. He attempted to masturbate (he found himself at half-mast almost constantly now, always in a semi-erect state) on numerous occasions. He thought of slim, delicate hands on his body, everywhere. Jerking himself hard and fast, he held a picture of stoic, solid Ignis tight in his mind’s eye. 

But Ardyn’s own hands were…insufficient. He could not finish the deed. No matter how he tried, Ardyn was never able to successfully bring himself off. He flagged when, inevitably, the persistent, overbearing reality inching around the borders of his awareness broke through. 

He knew what he was. An ancient, decrepit thing. A curse. Pulling on himself like some—dare he say it—mortal.  
  
And what the hell was the point of that. Worthless and stupid.

Growling in frustration, Ardyn always gave up the fight. He minded his temper and told himself to just wait out the rest of each month. How hard could it be? He had lived in the darkness for ages, after all.

Actually, this proved rather difficult. 

Whenever Ardyn’s frustration (emotional and sexual) reached a fever pitch, he left the Citadel and roamed about the ruined wastelands of Lucis. Searching for Ignis. More often than not, he found the tactician in the diner at Hammerhead. Cooking up some meager feast for himself and his friends. A few times, he found Ignis in Lestallum tending to the sick. The man possessed some kind of restorative ability, Ardyn noted. Interesting. Sometimes, Ignis would be camping—seriously, _camping_? By himself? _Now_?—at a haven, brooding in silence as he waited out a particularly ruthless daemon. 

Ardyn observed all of this. From the shadows, not needing to make himself invisible, but masking all signs of his smell with a generous helping of darkness just to be on the safe side. 

Once, he thought Ignis heard him. The man was readying a sponge bath at camp, pouring water (cleansed of course; regular river water would be far too dangerous at this point) into a basin. He undressed slowly and folded his clothes in such a neat, determined way—old habits, Ardyn supposed. 

The Accursed watched with bated breath as Ignis sank, naked, into the bath. Every smooth inch of this man was perfection. The vague scars lining his face, and his body, front and back. The pale flesh…everything. Every single thing. Ardyn licked his lips, panting as he looked on.

And in his heavy breathing and mesmerization, Ardyn took a foolish step forward. Some dried earth crunched beneath his feet. 

Ignis froze. He turned sharply in Ardyn’s direction.

The immortal stayed completely still—blood pumping in the most curious way, unsure if he wanted Ignis to find him or not. On the one hand, Ignis would know Ardyn had been following him, surveying him. Ignis would _know. A_ nd that felt so good for some reason. But on the other hand, the blind tactician was sure to be upset. Normal people valued their privacy or something like that. Ardyn remembered. Perhaps Ignis would even be cross enough not to return to the Citadel.

…Regrettable.

So Ardyn went motionless and waited for Ignis’s reaction. Sure enough, the battle-scarred man turned away after a time and began the process of bathing.

Grinning at his apparent victory, Ardyn stayed and watched the whole scene. He loved the water running down Ignis’s body. He wanted to put his own hands there, follow the path the water took. With his mouth too. He noted with impeccable focus how Ignis’s nipples hardened a bit under the sponge as the man cleaned himself. Were they sensitive? Oh…Ardyn desperately wanted to find out…

Not that Ignis would ever let Ardyn get that close. The immortal knew that without question.

Besides, just watching was enough. By the Six, even naked and exposed, Ignis held himself with such innate confidence. His movements were precise and calculated (by necessity now, because he could not see). The practiced body of a gymnast. A grace that could hardly be believed.

Fascinating.

Yes, these were Ardyn’s guilty little pleasures. He had a ton of free time on his hands anyway, waiting out these years until the True King returned. Stalking Ignis was a wonderful pastime to whittle away the hours. 

Feeling a small sense of control in how he managed his need to be near Ignis, Ardyn let their deal progress at the same pace. They found a good balance with each other. Ignis called all the shots during their encounters. He never touched Ardyn’s bare flesh on purpose. Though, once, the former advisor asked Ardyn to fully remove his outer coat and scarf and lie down on the couch. From there, Ignis gave Ardyn a thorough back massage. Those intelligent fingers dipped between the bones along Ardyn’s ribs, his spine, and even his lower back. 

That had been Ardyn’s favorite time by far. His body was such a melted pile of skin afterwards that Ignis needed to see himself out on his own, without Ardyn even getting up to watch. 

But Ignis was…strangely trustworthy. The tactician knew he was getting a rather good bargain. Ardyn believed Ignis to be savvy enough not to push his luck and try something clever. 

That felt good too. Rather than worrying about Ignis pulling the wool over his eyes, Ardyn imagined them both as men engaged in a (sort of) practical business deal. He  was comfortable referring to Ignis as a colleague at this point. They were like-minded in some ways. Cynical. Shrewd. Disenchanted with the normal pace of day to day life in this world of ruin. 

Ardyn decided to take his delight where he could.

As for Ignis, there were many times when he had doubts. For one, he found it incredibly hard to believe that his plan was working so well. Really, this was all he needed to do? Just give Ardyn a few warm-up/warm-down massages (truly nothing he had not given the prince in the past, to help with Noctis’s persistent back pain, and to ease his muscles after a rough workout with Gladiolus)? That was all, and Ardyn would be willing to do whatever he wanted?

Was this all he ever needed to do?

Incredible.

It took Ignis a few months to really wrap his head around the idea. And for him to see, with empirical evidence, that this was entirely what Ardyn required. The man was so viscerally starved for touch that even Ignis’s lightest back rubs made him moan where he sat. Turned him so malleable that he could not even get up off the couch after some sessions. There were no hidden motives here, it seemed. All Ardyn wanted was to be gently pampered. 

Well. Ignis was in no position to look a gift horse in the mouth.

But as time wore on, the tactician started to feel…strangely…uncomfortable. There were only so many words Ignis would let himself use, even in his own mind, to describe the situation. Strategic was one of them. Ignis could shut off all his other notions and boil the deal down to its bare bones. Yes this was nothing more than strategy. Mutually beneficial was another word for it. Convenient, even. 

Well, mostly convenient…

Eventually, Ignis allowed himself to admit that he pitied Ardyn. It was pitiable, after all, to be so desperate for contact that Ardyn would allow Ignis to do any of this. Medical items were hardly worth a damn to Ardyn, but ceremony and being a prick were sacred to the immortal. Yet, he was yielding here. Only because he needed—in whatever way—what Ignis was supplying. 

Ignis could not help pitying him for that. He imagined what it would be like to live so long, veritable eons, and lose all sense of human touch. To a blind man, whose world relied so heavily on touch and feeling, that sounded like the worst kind of hell. But even for a sighted person it seemed unreasonably painful. 

It angered Ignis to think like that, though. This was Ardyn after all! Their most hated enemy. The man who destroyed everything Ignis held dear. He deserved whatever horrid fate possible. Certainly.

…And yet, after months being confronted with the reality of Ardyn’s precarious condition…Ignis would consent to calling his feelings pity. 

He warned himself not to go any further. He should not. He _must_ not. 

He needed to shun the quietly nagging idea that this was all a bit unethical. Ignis was taking advantage of Ardyn. Exploiting his weaknesses. Keeping the older man’s needs alive, almost cruelly, never going past a point of practiced distance. 

No. That was preposterous.

Ignis scoffed aloud at the idea. Unethical— _he_ was being unethical to _Ardyn_? Ridiculous! This man was a murderer (he had killed Lady Lunafreya in cold blood), a maniac (Zegnatus Keep, enough said), and a daemon-ridden mess. Ignis forced himself to list all the things Ardyn had done, just in Noctis’s lifetime alone, to ruin the world. Too many things to count!

Alas, it was true. Ignis had no reason to feel bad about exploiting Ardyn. Ethics were a thing of the past anyway. Especially where this loathsome man was concerned. Ignis would do whatever he needed in order to help the rest of humanity. 

He could not start thinking of Ardyn as human too. That would lead to far too much cognitive dissonance. Ignis’s world was dark enough without muddying the waters any further. 

Yes, Ardyn’s body felt like any other man’s. Yes, he smelled exactly like Ignis imagined he would. Yes, his short groans and shaky breathing were evidence of pure pleasure. Yes, he quivered and kissed Ignis’s hands in a way that Ignis hesitated to describe (reverent, worshipful—but the tactician would never give voice to such words).

Yes, Ardyn had some lingering humanity left in him. In fairness, Ignis had been counting on that when they started all this. But no, Ardyn was no longer human in strictest sense. The ancient Accursed: He was the thing Noctis needed to kill in order to restore light to the world.

Ignis made sure to remember that.

______________________________________________

“My, my. Is it that time of the month already?” 

Ardyn was waiting for Ignis by the front door to the Citadel. Again, as always. His claim to have simply forgotten Ignis’s consistent appointment with him was just for show. They both knew that. Ignis tapped his way into the antechamber with his usual implacable poise. 

_There he is. Finally. What took him so long?_

_Two hours later than last month’s arrival isn’t he?_

_What stupid gall…worthless pile of human trash…_

The daemons carried on their own miffed conversation as Ardyn watched Ignis take his place over by the couch. 

“But it’s so hard to keep track of time these days,” Ardyn continued, flouncing over to his customary seat on the couch. He rested his feet up on the cushions, a picture of casualness. “Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Ignis rested his cane against the back of the couch and carefully removed his gloves. Tucking them into his coat pocket, the tactician replied, “Mmm, I don’t know. I find myself rather busy these days. Truth be told.”

Of course, Ardyn knew that already. He had a pretty good taste of how Ignis lived his life when he wasn’t in the Citadel bargaining. But that hardly mattered. Ardyn just wanted to twist the knife in Ignis’s side a little. Punishment for keeping him waiting.

“I see…” Ardyn drawled, inching himself forward so he was sitting directly below his visitor. “And I suppose time moves much more slowly for you, without your precious king. It must seem like decades to you. Waiting and waiting…the passing years aging you. Tick-tock, Noct. Your dear friends are getting old without you!” 

He scoured Ignis’s face for any signs of agitation. Noctis, of course, was the sore spot between them. A button Ardyn just longed to push. Instead, all he saw was a quick little twitch of Ignis’s lips. A smirk. 

By the—…well, Ardyn would admit that Ignis never failed to amaze.

“That’s quite like the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?” Ignis asked ruefully. “Although, in our case, it’s a bit more extreme….” He glanced down, looking vaguely in Ardyn’s direction. “Are you really in any position to call other people old?” 

At that, Ardyn allowed himself a small smile. “Point taken. But, no matter.” He sighed, putting himself in a mindset where he could be touched without flinching. He eyed Ignis’s bony hands gripping the back of the couch. Just waiting for him.

Ah, yes. Here at last. His monthly indulgence. Ardyn licked his lips excitedly as he stared at Ignis’s hands. What would the tactician do to him today…?

A hot shiver coursed through Ardyn’s insides. His body had been especially craving this lately. The skin along his shoulders tingled painfully now, anticipating Ignis’s touch. These past few weeks, Ardyn had been sensitive even to the touch of his clothes. Moving just right made the shirt against his skin caress him in such a way…Ardyn sometimes had to bite back a moan at the most random times. 

There. Already he felt the tightness in his pants. Ardyn was rather aroused and they had not even begun yet.

Could Ignis hear his breath becoming more labored?

The answer was, unbeknownst to Ardyn, yes. Ignis heard Ardyn’s normally shallow breathing pick up speed. He could hear and feel how Ardyn squirmed against the couch.He even heard the soft sounds of continuous swallowing. All indications that Ardyn was itching for the younger man’s attention today. 

According to Ignis’s careful collection of data, it seemed Ardyn was more and more eager every time Ignis came here. 

…A tendril of _something_ wormed its way up Ignis’s stomach. It tried to burrow into his chest. Ignis grabbed the feeling, like catching a garden snake in one hand, and tossed it away. Out. Out with you.

“So, what shall we do today to pass the time?” Ardyn quipped. 

“The usual. Take off your coat, please.” Ignis stood still and waited for the other man to comply.

Mmm…Ardyn liked the sound of that. He threw his coat and scarf to the side with little care. Oh, how he hoped Ignis would ask him to lay down again. He could certainly go for another round of those wonderful palms sliding along his back…

But Ignis did not ask for that. Instead, he laid his hands on Ardyn’s shoulders gently. As always. A rather expected sort of touch by now. Huffing a bit in disappointment, Ardyn closed his eyes and relished the feel of those coveted fingers stroking him. 

Yes….yes, finally. Warm, clean hands on him… Ardyn leaned his head back against the couch. He tried to memorize exactly what this felt like. If he could accomplish that, maybe he would not have such a difficult time on his own later when he tried to give himself enough stimulation for relief…perhaps. 

Ignis worked his hands back and forth across Ardyn’s shoulders. He knew he’d best start slowly today. Especially since Ardyn was already so worked up. 

There were times when Ignis pondered what Ardyn would do if he became overwhelmed with desire. The strategist honestly could not come up with an answer. On the whole, Ignis reasoned it was better to just avoid such a scenario.

He traced his fingers up to the edge of Ardyn’s shirt. They met with no resistance—what? Immediately Ignis pulled his hands back, fingers resonating with the feel of soft, cushiony flesh. The bare skin around Ardyn’s neck. 

Ardyn smirked. Oh, right. He had actually forgotten about this little change. 

The touch was quite a surprise for Ignis. Never before could he remember touching Ardyn’s neck like that so suddenly. Without meaning to. Swallowing against the sudden panic rising up in his throat, Ignis observed slowly, “You’re…not wearing your collar…” 

Usually Ardyn’s dress shirt came complete with a high Elizabethan collar around the neck. Ignis was used to its presence by now; he could work his fingers around it as necessary. But today the collar was conspicuously absent. As a result, Ignis had unintentionally grazed Ardyn’s neck with the tips of his fingers when he came to the shirt’s end. 

“A small difference,” Ardyn hummed, pleased with himself. “Can’t an old man like me try to keep up with the times?”

Actually, Ardyn had removed the collar a few weeks ago. It became unbearably scratchy against his throat as sensations to his skin grew more…heightened. So, the collar needed to go.

Ignis shook his head. Nothing too amiss, it seemed. “Yes,” he answered sarcastically. “And now I’m sure your clothes are…the pinnacle of fashion…” 

“I like to think so…” Ardyn replied dreamily as Ignis put his hands back where they were. 

A curious thought popped into Ignis’s head. He rubbed circles into Ardyn’s shoulders with his thumbs and wondered. Even a small change between them was worth noting. Subtle differences meant quite a lot in the careful, delicate environment the two men had created. 

So Ignis thought he might try something new as well. To fit with Ardyn’s change in attire. 

Listening to the low rumble of Ardyn’s voice droning on in wordless pleasure, Ignis worked his fingers inward. Closing the distance to the older man’s neck. This would need to be slow going, as cautious as possible so Ardyn did not detect anything out of the ordinary. Ever so gently, Ignis’s fingers inched towards Ardyn’s exposed neck. With one particularly intense squeeze, Ignis let his fingertips stroke the side of Ardyn’s throat. 

“Nnngh…!” Ardyn choked. His eyes flew open, body shaking as it registered that touch. 

He had not been expecting—

Ignis did it again. This time his thumbs stroked the back of Ardyn’s neck in tandem.

“Ah!”

—for the blind man to actually touch him there! So boldly! He would admit that his neck had always been a rather erogenous spot on his body. Even in his youth. His damned neck was what revealed his weakness to Ignis in the first place, way back when they spent that night in the caravan. And now Ignis was using that to his advantage, dragging his fingers against the immortal’s neck with the barest of touches.

Ardyn’s eyes closed. His mouth opened, lips quivering as Ignis teased him again and again. 

“You…” Ardyn growled, between gasps. 

His body was coming undone. 

Ignis felt a change in the air. The body under his hands stiffened considerably.

Well. Perhaps he should keep touching him this until Ardyn could take no more. Admittedly, the thought did conjure a small smile to Ignis’s face. A dark sense of power, mixed with curiosity and a strange sense of urgency. 

He wanted to continue. There were risks, but. Life was all about risks. 

Forgoing the massage altogether, Ignis ghosted two fingers down the back of Ardyn’s neck. He let them dip slightly into the hem of Ardyn’s shirt, teasing the flesh at the very beginning of the man’s spine. Resting his stationary hand on Ardyn’s trembling shoulder, Ignis slowly brought his fingers back up. He traced that same path a few more times. 

Ardyn needed to fight to keep himself from screaming in frustration. He wanted to push his head back, to force Ignis’s hands to touch him in a more satisfying way. This, what Ignis was doing to him now, was worse than teasing. It was torture.

Jaw clenching, teeth grinding together, Ardyn could not stop a pained grunt escaping his closed lips. He wanted to expel all his dark magic—trap Ignis underneath him. Grab the man by the wrists and push those hands wherever he wanted. 

_It won’t be the same…_ Some incongruously wise voice inside of him said. 

Doesn’t matter, Ardyn countered when Ignis’s nails scratched him the barest bit, amping up the tension considerably. He needed to do something, he could not just sit there and endure this—

_If you force him, he’ll leave._

Ardyn paused. Well, then this will be the last time. Because his head was beginning to roll forward, presenting more flesh for Ignis to torture. He needed more. Something, anything. He could live with this being the last time, if only—

_You can’t._

…Damn that small voice in his head. What daemon was that, who knew exactly what he wanted? Normally the daemons were not so in tune to him. Especially not with desires like this…

But regardless, that cursed little piece of consciousness was right. Ardyn could not afford to renege on this deal, to have it all be over now. He just couldn’t. The stipulations of their agreement were clear. Whatever happened between them needed to be on Ignis’s terms. 

That meant Ardyn would need to… Fuck. 

Ignis felt Ardyn’s skin breaking out in goosebumps. He figured they were probably nearing the limits of the immortal’s control. Instead of reaching the point of no return, it would be more prudent to stop now. So, Ignis sighed loudly to alert Ardyn of his intentions. He pulled both hands back slowly, hoping to let the older man adjust—

Ardyn’s own hands latched onto Ignis’s wrists. He stopped those hands right where they were. Harder than necessary at first, but the immortal relaxed his grip with Ignis gasped. 

Feeling trapped, Ignis listened to the beat of his own heart. Was this the part where he died…? 

“Stop,” Ardyn grumbled. Soft and short. So unlike him. “Keep going. ….please.”

Ignis blinked his good eye a few times. Had he just heard that? 

But Ardyn was not moving. The man did not suddenly make a play to harm his visitor. Furthermore, Ardyn sounded…resigned. Like he knew this was what he needed to do and had accepted that fact. Although it must have pained him. 

So, Ignis pushed through his own apprehension. He coiled his fingers around the side of Ardyn’s neck. Softly, but not teasing. A proper touch. 

“I will require some additional compensation,” Ignis breathed. He stroked Ardyn’s neck gently. 

The Accursed gritted his teeth. He felt empty except for that wonderful, far too intense touch. “…Name it.” 

A million thoughts ran through Ignis’s mind. What should he ask for? There were so many things he wanted, so many things they needed. What could Ardyn reasonably provide and what would he agree to?

Ignis decided to start small. With a known variable. “The key to the medical supply armament?”

“…It’s yours.” Ardyn closed his eyes, rolling his neck to one side when Ignis’s fingers travelled up to his chin. 

“Unlimited access? Whenever I require?” Ignis’s mind raced as he hammered out the terms. 

“You’ll have it…” Ardyn could hardly even bring himself to care about these meaningless things. He only wanted more of those fingers, right on his jugular, stroking him. “Now…please continue.” 

Ignis nodded, though he did not know if Ardyn could see it. “Alright, then.” 

The lofty feeling of victory bubbled up inside the tactician. He could get all the medical supplies he needed—at long last! And all he had to do was give Ardyn a little extra attention. 

Well, to be fair, Ignis could give him a lot more attention than this. A thorough petting, if that’s what Ardyn wanted. 

Smiling in satisfaction, Ignis wrapped his hand around Ardyn’s throat. Not menacingly—he did not press down, even when he felt a distant pulse against his palm. He just wanted to cover as much of Ardyn’s neck as he could, directly touching him now. Stroking him like he knew the other man wanted.

Then, Ignis pushed the fingers of his other hand up the back of Ardyn’s neck. Harder this time. He buried those fingers in Ardyn’s mess of hair. Right down to the roots, rubbing the older man’s scalp. 

Ardyn moaned. Loudly. His head dropped back against Ignis’s hand as he exposed all of his throat. Ignis’s hand danced along the delicate flesh on his neck, making his hips arch up into the air. They met nothing, but Ardyn barely noticed. His body had a will of its own right now. 

And those fingers…running against the top of his head. No one had touched him there in…oh, at least a few hundred years. Who was the last person…? Ardyn could not even think of a name or a face as he imagined who might have stroked his scalp like that. But it felt wonderful to let Ignis have the honor. 

“Oh…that’s lovely…” Ardyn groaned. His eyes rolled back in his head, unseeing.

Ignis’s fingers found one of Ardyn’s ears. The tactician gently traced the outline of Ardyn’s cartilage, rubbing that curved shell between two fingers. It was an exquisite touch. He did not know where to learn to get more of it.

Then Ignis’s finger’s moved downward. They ran along his chin and slowly up the side of his face. Ardyn inhaled sharply. His cheeks, though ridden with stubble, were surprisingly sensitive. The pads of Ignis’s fingers in that place made him forget who they both were. 

He wanted more. He wanted those hands everywhere.

Unthinking, Ardyn dropped his face against Ignis’s hand. He nuzzled the blind man’s palm, sighing in pleasure when that hand touched his nose. His eyes. His forehead. His lips. Ignis kept his hand stationary so Ardyn could rub up against him. The immortal circled his head over and around, making sure the tactician touched every inch of his face.

The smell, the sensation. The warmth. 

What did Ardyn need to offer for Ignis to keep touching him like this? After an hour of such stimulation, what would become of Ardyn? Would he fade away from an overload of pleasure? Would he…finally climax (after literal centuries)?

Ignis ran the backs of his fingers against Ardyn’s cheek. He thought it would be cruel to pull away suddenly when the man was clearly enjoying this so viscerally. He would need to wind Ardyn down before he stopped.

So Ignis petted the side of Ardyn’s face gently for a few moments. He let the older man catch his breath. 

The immortal knew what was coming. He could already sense reality infringing upon his pleasure. The darkness making itself known once more…

Their time was up. Ardyn kept his eyes closed, waiting out the foreign sinking feeling in his chest. 

Ignis leaned down and whispered, “Easy, now. Calm down.” 

The words were softly spoken, but for some reason they pierced through to Ardyn’s core. Suddenly angry, Ardyn grunted miserably and pushed his head away from Ignis’s hand. His mind felt fuzzy and incoherent. His body still tingled where Ignis’s fingers had just been. He knew he wanted more. Hearing Ignis’s voice near to his ear made something inside him quiver. 

But this was all just bullshit, wasn’t it?

In the end, Ignis’s kind words were nothing more than lies. The man would never give himself to Ardyn. Never anything more than this. Ignis was just a falsehood wrapped around a silver tongue. 

It infuriated the immortal that Ignis would pretend to care about him. 

“Get away from me,” Ardyn growled. He tried to stand, but his feet had seemingly fallen asleep. So instead he crouched on the edge of the seat, as far from Ignis’s treacherous hands as possible. 

“As you wish…” Ignis responded, surprise clear in his voice. He definitely had not expected the sudden rebuff.

The blind man tilted his chin in thought. Ardyn sat in front of him, silent and hunched. 

A weird tension filled the air. Ignis tried to figure out where he had misstepped. His intentions were not to anger Ardyn—that was for sure. Appropriate or not. Meanwhile, Ardyn scratched his chin (somewhat aggressively) and tried to collect himself. He was still so uncomfortably aroused, crawling with desire. But right now, that only pissed him off even more. 

The human body was so rife with conflicting needs…Ardyn remembered the reason he had tried to give all this up. Frustration and longing were two sides of the same coin. He hated both feelings in equal measure.

Ignis cleared his throat, pointedly moving past the sudden awkwardness. He gathered his cane in one hand and walked around to the front of the couch. Keeping himself poised, he held out his other hand, palm up.

“I’ll have that key now.” The tactician’s voice was no longer gentle. It returned to its normal serious timbre. 

“Tch.”

Ardyn fought back the urge to spit on Ignis’s hand. This man honestly thought Ardyn would honor a deal so hastily offered like that? Why should he? The medical supplies were inconsequential, but the principle of the thing…Ignis walking in and out of the Citadel as he pleased. 

Untenable.

_You still need him…_

“Shut up,” Ardyn snapped. It took him a few moments to realize he had spoken the words aloud. And now Ignis probably thought he was speaking to him even though Ardyn was actually addressing…the voice in his head. Right. 

Well. It was hard to stay grounded in reality when there were all these feelings clamoring around.

Sighing, Ardyn regarded Ignis. The man’s wrist flinched ever so slightly when Ardyn said those last two words. But other than that, the tactician had not moved an inch. 

That was commendable, at least.

…Fine. A deal was a deal. Even one made in haste. 

Ardyn found his coat on the floor and fished around inside until he found the key. At first, it had taken him some time to locate the key to the armament among the plethora of other keys stashed around the Citadel. But since it became clear that the place was of prime interest to Ignis, well then. Ardyn made sure to keep it on his person at all times. He tossed the key against his palm a few times, weighing his options. 

After he decided, Ardyn placed the tip of the key against Ignis’s palm. “I have one more condition to add to this arrangement of yours,” he murmured, voice edging back to his normal tone. “Whenever you come gather your precious curatives, I demand that you visit me. And…tend to me, as you have been doing so well up until now.”

Ignis nodded curtly. “Very well. I agree.”

“And I do mean every time,” Ardyn continued (a little surprised how readily Ignis agreed to that). “You know I can sense you coming in and out of here, right?” 

For some reason, Ignis’s face softened when he heard that. “Yes, I know. I’ll come see you every time. It’s a deal.” 

Believing Ignis was telling the truth, Ardyn hummed irritably and handed over the key. He supposed that if Ignis broke the agreement Ardyn could always kill him. Or something. He watched the blind man stash the key in his jacket pocket. 

Steadying his raw nerves with a large helping of unbeatable apathy, Ardyn leaned back on the couch and stared at Ignis curiously. He imagined what the tactician looked like naked, consoling himself with this secret piece of knowledge he had. 

“Hmmm…” Ardyn mused. More coherent now. “…What manner of devil are you, to make such demands? Not caring about the consequences?” 

Ignis thought about that for a moment. Then he shrugged and said, “I care about consequences. But we all have needs. If there is an arrangement that meets both our needs, I’m happy to find it.” 

“And that’s all you want?” Ardyn asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Ignis frowned. “Yes.” After a moment he added, “Have I ever given you the impression there was something else I had in mind?”

Unable to answer right away, Ardyn just clicked his teeth. Ultimately, he did not know what to make of Ignis. A man who was not unsettled by anything. Not even an immortal monster lashing out and snapping at thin air. There had to be something else Ignis wanted…besides the obvious, Noctis’s return. 

After a long moment of uneasy silence, Ignis bowed politely. “Ah, well. Good day.” He turned around, tapping his way to the door. “You can expect me tomorrow or the day after.” 

Hearing that, Ardyn’s attention sharpened into focus immediately. “So soon?” he remarked in disbelief. 

“Yes. I’m afraid the daemons in Cleigne have been quite voracious recently. I need the supplies as soon as I can get them. I just need to get a…friend of mine to drive the truck.” 

“I see. How horrible.” Ardyn sat up a little straighter. His mouth twisted into a grin. “Well then, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Indeed. Tomorrow, then.” Ignis left the Citadel, leaving only the rhythmic clack of his cane in his wake. 

Maybe Ardyn should just kill him tomorrow. Get it over with. 

_You won’t._

…Yeah. Who the hell did he have left to fool. Ardyn knew he was not going to kill Ignis.

_________________________________________

Asking Gladiolus to drive a shipment of potions was one thing. For an actual search-and-retrieve mission inside the Citadel itself, Ignis knew he needed to rely on someone who would not ask so many questions.

Prompto was not as smooth of a driver as Gladiolus. A little less confident with the accelerator, a little over-reliant on the brakes. But he agreed immediately when Ignis told him what he needed to do, only asking when and where. 

No surprise. Prompto was much more daring these days. He was comfortable skirting danger, especially if it was for someone else’s benefit more than his own. 

So, Ignis dictated the route Prompto needed to take. They were headed for the back door of the Citadel. The tactician held the map of Insomnia firmly in his mind, praying the way he knew had not been destroyed in the siege. They needed to take a few detours, but by the end of the day, Prompto had delivered them to the rear-most entrance. The one leading directly to the medical supplies armament.

Fumbling a bit with the keys, Ignis unlocked the door and scrambled inside. “Quickly, Prompto…” he instructed, listening carefully as he tapped, trying to pinpoint the position of the supplies. “Help me load some of these into the truck. As much as we can carry.” 

“Whoa…Igs…” the blonde murmured, turning on his flashlight with a quiet click. “There’s so many crates….Aww, man, how much loot can one armament hold?”

“More than you can imagine,” Ignis answered swiftly. “But let’s focus on the curatives for now.” 

“Roger.” 

They worked in tandem. Ignis followed Prompto’s footsteps back and forth to the truck. He preferred working with the young blonde more than anyone else, because Prompto was always mindful to describe their surroundings aloud. Whenever Ignis needed. By now, it had become one of the boy’s habits. Ignis was especially fond of him for that reason.

Towards the end of their work, Prompto finally broached the subject. “So, Iggy…this is still part of the Citadel, right? Then…doesn’t that mean _he’s_ around here somewhere?”

Ignis did not even pause. “Definitely.”

“Like I mean…watching us or something? Right now, even?”

Ignis nodded. “Most likely.” 

Prompto hesitated for a few minutes, his breath quickening. 

“Pay it no mind,” Ignis rushed to say. “Just think of it as all the more reason for us to work quickly.” 

“Right.” Indeed, Prompto did work a little faster after that. 

When their truck was as full as they could get it, Prompto leapt back into the driver’s seat. In contrast, Ignis stayed right where he was standing. At the entrance to the armament.

“Iggy, let’s go,” the MT called, already starting the car. “No time to waste. We gotta get out of here and take these supplies to Hammerhead!” 

Ignis shook his head slowly. “No, you’re going on without me Prompto. There’s still something left for me to do here.” 

“What?” Prompto shut the car off immediately. He hopped out and grabbed Ignis by the shoulders. “Okay. What the hell is going on, man? I wasn’t going to say anything but…leaving you here? Alone?! That’s way too fucking dangerous!” 

Ignis patted Prompto’s hands, unshaken. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” 

“Huh?” Prompto’s grip tightened. “Ignis, what in Shiva’s name are you trying to do? This is suicide, dude, you can’t just expect me to—”

“Prompto.” Ignis employed a commanding tone of voice he hardly ever used. One Prompto usually only heard in battle. Softening his tone just a bit, Ignis continued, “Thank you for your concern. I appreciate it, but…please. If you have any respect left for me after all this time then…I implore you. Trust me.” 

He heard the younger man swallow loudly. “Of course I still respect you, buddy. I always have. You’ve gotta know that.” 

“Yes.” Ignis smiled at him. Full of genuine affection. “I’ve never doubted it. So, please. Trust me.” 

Prompto took a deep breath, muttering angrily under his breath. “….Ah, shit, man. Alright. You do what you gotta. But…” the boy sniffed hard. “If you get killed then I swear I will find you somewhere in the afterlife and give you such hell…” 

“Sounds fair.” Ignis squeezed Prompto’s shoulder one more time and stepped away, searching for the wall on his right side. “Now, go. Don’t waste any more time. And don’t fight any of the daemons on your way out of here either.”

“Okay. Fuck, Iggy, be careful!” 

“I will be.” 

When Prompto pulled away, he saw Ignis in the rearview mirror. His friend had one hand on the wall, feeling his way around the back of the Citadel. It was probably too loud for him to make out any sound and soft ground really wasn’t that helpful anyway. Or so Ignis explained to him in the past.

Shaking his head, Prompto fought back a rush of tears. He admired Ignis a hell of a lot. Probably way more than his friend even knew. How could he ever tell him? Maybe the only way was to believe in him. To trust that Ignis knew what he was doing.

An ironic laugh forced its way out of the blonde. “Huh. Shit. Ignis, all business. Just like old times.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking of about two more chapters. But I'll leave it open for now!
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading this story about cognitive dissonance and distrust! :D Because I'm enjoying the hell out of writing it.


	5. Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis decides to test their limits a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes so much focus to write, but there are soooo many feelings here. Feels feels and more feels.
> 
> And once again these chapters are way too long.

Ignis made his way from the armament back to front entrance of the Citadel. Once Prompto’s truck pulled away, it was easier to maneuver the field using his sense of sound. Tapping along the dirt and cement underneath him, Ignis sidestepped the ruins of Insomnia to meet the man who had orchestrated its fall.

He knew he would have to see Ardyn tonight. Even though it had barely been a day since their last encounter. The immortal was very clear about the stipulations—every time, he said. Ignis had no intention of testing the agreement. Nor did he feel all that uncomfortable with the idea.

He really should have been more uncomfortable. He knew that. 

But at this point…Ignis was entirely unafraid of Ardyn. Even if Ardyn approached him in a fit of rage, Ignis was certain he could offer something—a select few things—that would convince Ardyn to stay his hand. Their last encounter proved as much.

Ignis knew: Ardyn was not going to hurt him. He was sure of that because Ardyn had a great number of chances to do so last time, and yet, each time he refused in favor of granting Ignis more access. Demanding only that Ignis keep up his end of the bargain. Keep touching him.

Slowing his step, Ignis came to terms with this deep-rooted feeling inside of him. He had been harboring suspicions for a while, but now he had incontrovertible proof. 

Ardyn did not want him dead. In fact, Ardyn might work keep to him alive. Because the Accursed so desperately wanted more.

A calm surge of relief and heady power settled in Ignis’s stomach. He could no longer call any of his feelings “fear” or “hesitation.” There was still some caution, but that was inevitable. Not wise to dismiss, even considering the circumstances. Still, caution did not make Ignis question the fact that he would leave the Citadel alive that night. 

Crazy. But true. Here he was.

The only thing he needed to decide, Ignis realized, was what he would be willing to give Ardyn tonight in accordance with their deal. How would he tend to him? What would he do to the immortal this time?

The answer to that depended on a number of variables. First would be Ardyn’s own mood. Sometimes—especially yesterday—it seemed that Ardyn became too frustrated during his sessions with Ignis. He might just swat the strategist away if he had too much. Another variable was, of course, what Ardyn would be willing to offer him in return. Ignis had a few ideas what he could ask for next time.

Finally, as for the last missing variable, there was the unnamable tension between them. The thing Ignis had been dodging for some time.

Sometimes his plan of action altered drastically when Ignis found himself actually standing next to Ardyn. Touching him, even gently and barely at all as he had been doing, created an electric vibe between them that Ignis was learning to work around. A need, one that had gone quite literally untouched for centuries. Ignis was aware of the intensity of that. Combined with regular old lust. As well as the power play that was impossible to ignore. These things affected them both, not just Ardyn. 

Ignis thought back to how their last session ended. Ardyn’s mood had deteriorated in a matter of seconds. He appeared angry and almost…unhinged. In a way Ignis had never seen before.

He remembered those words Ardyn hissed, right after Ignis asked for the key. _“Shut up.”_ Ignis could hear those words echoing around him even now. They were a puzzle he needed to work out. Preferably soon. 

Who was Ardyn talking to? 

Ignis frowned as he recreated the scene in his mind. He was certain he had not heard anyone else in that room besides the two of them. No other presence. Not daemonic, and certainly not human. He was _certain._

That meant…Ardyn was addressing Ignis when he said that. But that didn’t quite add up. Especially because such crass language was not Ardyn’s usual modus operandi. Also because Ardyn had proceeded to immediately bargain with him, as if nothing were amiss. He obviously did not want Ignis to, quote, shut up, because he offered him something else right away and asked for his consent. 

So. In the absence of any other party…Ardyn must have been speaking to himself. Arguing within his own mind. Fighting down some idea that came to him in a flurry of thought—

Well, Ignis supposed, it was probably easy to get into the habit of talking to yourself after two thousand years. He would not even go there thinking such a thing was mad. Hardly. Besides, Ardyn never fell into the category of “sane” to begin with. So that was nothing new.

More salient, and more to Ignis’s point, was the question of what exactly Ardyn was trying to fight down. Were there dueling consciousnesses inside of him? Were they daemonic? Were they human? What was he trying to stamp out of himself? Why did he want it gone?

(How could Ignis use that to his advantage?)

Standing at the front door to the Citadel—now for the umpteenth time—Ignis sighed. Ardyn was truly a mess. Ignis had always thought so. Back before they knew any of his true motives and even after. Ardyn was the so-called “mastermind" behind all their hardships, but…Ignis believed that Ardyn was nowhere near a man at peace with his actions. 

He reminded Ignis of a car spinning out of control. One slip of the hand and any vehicle could go beyond a driver’s direction. Ardyn had been on the receiving end of very many unforeseen bumps in the road, very many bizarre obstacles. He had gone off course years ago, each decade and each horrible atrocity he committed only causing his wheels to pick up speed. At this point, two thousand years on, Ardyn was caught in his own tailspin. Careening wildly in place. Headed for destruction. About to burst to into flames.

There was only so much insanity one person could take, after all. 

Ignis knew his personal feelings about all this. Pity was one thing. But Ignis was somewhat beyond pity at this point, especially when he looked at the events rationally like that. He wanted to stop Ardyn’s ceaseless motion. That was the only way they could hope to stop any of this. Ardyn needed to slow. The fuck. Down. Before he imploded and destroyed the rest of humanity with him. 

Ardyn had something inside of him that he needed to get out. Ignis did not exactly know what, but he had a good guess. He knew it had something to do with this all-encompassing need the immortal was feeling. The need for touch, for physical affection. 

Ignis wanted Ardyn to stop fighting that need. For all their sakes. 

And, Ignis could help him do that. Certainly. 

An easy thing, really.

He opened the door. 

________________________________________________

“Oh, my dear man. You are nothing if not punctual.” The echo of Ardyn’s voice in the space of the vestibule was becoming a familiar thing to Ignis. Letting the door close behind him, he heaved a sigh and relaxed into the quiet, vacuous space. 

This is the only place he and Ardyn ever…conversed. A telling thing in and of itself. Ardyn would let Ignis go no further in than that—nowhere near the heart of this place—but the former advisor had no qualms with that. He met Ardyn where he was at. 

“Good evening,” Ignis began. Almost amicably. He could already feel the usual tension between them slithering up his skin. Except, in all honesty, Ignis was beginning to welcome the feeling. It sharpened his mind, almost like old times, and made him feel…well, excited. Alive. Eager. Useful, in a certain way. Feelings Ignis yearned for most days. 

“Is it evening, though?” Ardyn pondered, feet echoing near the couch on the far end of the room. “Are you so certain? Don’t you sometimes feel the hours blurring together in this world of darkness? To say nothing of your personal darkness, you poor thing…”

Ignis made his way over to the couch. Right. A teasing mood. Ardyn usually began their sessions with a decent amount of shit talking. The words hardly ever affected Ignis anymore. If anything, they were a sign that Ardyn was feeling his typical self. A good thing.

Leaning his cane against the couch, Ignis inhaled the scent he was so accustomed to by now. Musk and some foreign spice. Ardyn. Ignis took off his gloves and regarded the man. Unfaltering.

“I assume you were…observing my actions just now. In the armament.” 

“Hmmm…me? Spying on you?” Ardyn hummed briefly, but Ignis could hear the man’s uneven breathing. 

The tell of all tells. Ardyn was ill at ease. As he always was when it came to this.

“Alright, fine, I was,” Ardyn admitted with a chuckle. “What can I say, there’s no good television these days to keep me occupied. And your blonde MT friend is quite the plucky comic relief. Very entertaining.”

Ignis nodded. He expected as much. In fact, he basically figured Ardyn kept regular tabs on him. He had no way to prove that just yet, but he was already at peace with the idea. Ardyn could watch all he liked. Nothing really came of it, in the end.

Deciding to start them off early tonight, Ignis held out his hand to Ardyn. He felt around for the older man’s shoulder. When he found it, Ignis brushed the man’s arm in a familiar way. A casual touch, but one that would no doubt have a decent effect on the immortal. 

“And were our actions…acceptable to you? Nothing untoward, correct?” Ignis asked. Really just filling in the space. He made sure his voice sounded agreeable, open. Quiet and calm. That was the more important thing here.

“…What are you talking about?” Ardyn grumbled, already stiffening under the blind man’s hand. “You took what you wanted. It was part of the deal.” 

“Well, yes.” Ignis smiled easily. “But there’s no harm in making sure you still find the terms agreeable.” 

Ardyn huffed softly. He thought about that for a moment. “…And if I don’t?" 

Ignis broke out into a grin. In a bizarre way—something that definitely should have worried him for the sake of his sanity—the former advisor was beginning to enjoy this. Their back and forth. 

“Oh. Well. In that case, I’m sure we can work something else out…” As he said that, Ignis put both hands on top of Ardyn’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “Something that suits both of us.” 

Ardyn narrowed his eyes as he looked up at Ignis. There was something…different about his visitor today. Out of everything Ardyn had been anticipating before tonight (if anything, he thought Ignis would be even more hesitant than usual after the last time, with his little outburst), he had not seen this coming.

Ignis looked almost…jovial. In a good mood. Better than any Ardyn could remember before. The tactician had barely walked in the door and he was already touching him. Casually. 

_He’s gone insane. Stark mad._

_He’s hiding something. More tricks._

_He’s waiting to ask you for something else. He wants even more now._

_This selfish, unimaginable bastard…what’s he after this time?_

The daemons angrily threw out their own ideas on what exactly was wrong with Ignis. Ardyn had been suspecting for some time now that Ignis had set his proverbial sights higher. He wanted to swindle more out of Ardyn. Something else…perhaps something Ardyn did not want to give up.

What could it be? Ardyn had been on edge thinking about what exactly Ignis would ask of him next. He knew that…well, if Ignis proposed something that Ardyn could not refuse (and there were oh so many things the immortal wanted), then he would give it. Against his better judgement, against everything he had been working for this whole time. But still. Ardyn knew he would give it. 

That infuriated him. That Ignis could basically ask for whatever he wanted. And it made him even angrier that Ignis had appeared before him—unafraid, almost _flippantly_ —and immediately began talking terms. 

On top of that, Ardyn’s body had not settled down since the last time. He could still feel Ignis’s fingers on his neck. Could still remember the touch of Ignis’s palm on his face. What the blind man’s skin smelled like up close, right at the wrist where his scent was strongest. 

Ardyn had been fighting back shivers ever since. Part of him was so desperate for Ignis to come back…that same part had been unbelievably relieved when he saw the man hold up his end of the deal the very next day. He gathered his curatives and now…Ignis was here. In front of him. As promised. 

_Ah. Thank the six._

Enough out of you, Ardyn growled to that tiny piece of awareness inside of him. What he dubbed: The contrarian. The part of him that liked everything Ignis did and tried to convince Ardyn he wanted more. This stubborn little voice refused to be quiet. 

…But really. Feeling Ignis’s steady hands on his shoulders just now had finally stopped the shivering. Ardyn’s body seemed to heave a quiet sigh of relief. For a moment, Ardyn’s constant irritation died down into small satisfaction. Ignis was here. At last.

It truly was fortunate that the tactician was a man of his word.

Perhaps he could convince Ignis to touch his neck again…oh. That would be…

But before Ardyn could form any coherent plan of action, Ignis was already pulling his hands away. Gasping in sudden panic, Ardyn grabbed the other man by the wrists and held him in place. 

“We’re not done,” the immortal growled. Unbelievably angry that Ignis would leave him like this, before giving him anything!

But Ignis just smiled. “I know. I’m only making myself more comfortable. If…you’ll allow me?” He twisted his hands in Ardyn’s grip, turning them around so he could hold Ardyn’s clenched fists in his palms. He stroked the outside of Ardyn’s hands with his thumbs. 

Grunting at the sudden contact, Ardyn struggled with what to do. He hated the thought of letting go, that would be tantamount to letting Ignis do whatever the hell he wanted. Not that Ignis could get up and walk out…Ardyn would simply not allow that. But…he also had an acute wish to see what Ignis was planning. What delicious, torturous thing would it be today?

Ignis continued stroking the backs of Ardyn’s hands. Patiently. “I’m going to come sit next to you on the couch. Is that alright?” His voice was barely above a low whisper. 

Sit…next to him? Ardyn’s eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. Ignis wanted to get…that close to him? 

_What in Ifrit’s unholy, fiery name is he planning?_

But…the thought. Ignis sharing a small space like this with him. Their bodies on equal ground, almost touching… A wave of heavy desire flowed through the older man. He _wanted_ that. 

So, he slowly let go of Ignis’s hands. Keeping his eyes fixed on the tactician’s every move. 

“Thank you,” Ignis said in reply to Ardyn’s action. He dropped his hands, keeping one knee pressed to the edge of the couch as he followed it to the next cushion. 

Gracefully, Ignis took a seat. His face was eye-level with Ardyn’s. The immortal could not remember a time when they were close like this…it felt almost too intimate. 

What were they doing…? Ardyn wanted to press his face against Ignis’s shoulder. He wanted to bury his nose up against the younger man’s neck. Smell him. Taste him with an exploratory tongue. Sit so they were flush with each other, bodies well within reach. He wanted to hold Ignis close….he wanted…

Swallowing noisily, Ardyn grunted again around the painful flair of yearning inside him. His senses were unbelievably heightened being in such close proximity to Ignis. He could smell him already, thought he could feel the air that moved around Ignis’s body as he adjusted his seat. 

Ardyn’s human body ached to close the distance between them. He felt pulled inextricably nearer to Ignis…he just needed to…

“There, now.” Ignis turned to face Ardyn again, suitably comfortable. “It’s quite nice being able to sit after all this time.” 

Ardyn’s lips twitched into a smirk at that. Really, this whole thing was quite ridiculous. He was not far gone enough that he couldn’t appreciate the hilarity in that. “Have I been remiss in not offering you a seat?” he asked.

Ignis smiled back. He shook his head. “No, that’s quite alright.” 

Raising one hand again, Ignis wrapped his fingers around Ardyn’s shoulder. Successfully putting it back where it was. He patted Ardyn gently and then gave him a few short strokes. Not unlike a small, comforting gesture. 

“You’re not wearing your coat,” Ignis observed.

“…Mm.” Ardyn had actually not put his overcoat or scarf back on after last time. The garments just seemed so frivolous now, all of a sudden. Bulky and uncomfortable. He didn’t want them. 

What he wanted was…

Forgetting himself, Ardyn let his face drop onto Ignis’s hand. He inhaled deeply against Ignis’s knuckles, entranced by the feeling of skin against his own. Ignis’s skin had its own unique quality, Ardyn believed. Soft and silky, in perhaps an unusual way for a man. But also resilient. Not fragile. Elastic and impregnable. 

Ardyn wanted to feel so much more of Ignis’s skin. He had been wanting that for so long now. Every time he looked at him.

Running his fingers against Ardyn’s cheek, Ignis turned his hand over. Now he was gently cupping Ardyn’s face. Unperturbed. 

The look on the blind man’s face. Ardyn stared at it in deep contemplation. He could see the scars behind the man’s glasses covering two ruined eyes. Scars he was quite familiar with, for one reason or another. But…that face. Ignis’s features had not been ruined by those scars. On the contrary, he looked somehow more comfortable with himself. Smiling faintly the whole while. Damaged, but unhindered, goods. 

Ardyn wanted to observe that face to the very last detail. He wanted to memorize it. To feel it and taste it. He wanted to know that face. 

The roiling, frustrated desire in his stomach burned even hotter. Fuck. He was about to lose control and jump Ignis…how could he stop himself? 

Rumbling low in his throat, Ardyn traced Ignis’s arm with one hand. He felt up the man’s forearm, then his bicep (surprisingly strong and sturdy), and shoulder. He inched closer to Ignis on the couch, grabbing Ignis’s other shoulder with his free hand. 

This was the first time Ardyn had touched Ignis back. The feel of the other man’s body underneath his fingers was so fucking amazing…Ardyn was already at full mast between his legs. Ignis and his delectable body. Such a cock tease. Certainly knew how to drive a man insane. 

_Wait. Stop. He didn’t say…_

Trailing his hands up Ignis’s shoulders, Ardyn forced himself to freeze. The voice was right. They had not officially agreed to any of this, even though Ignis was not putting up any kind of a fight.

“Is this…?” Ardyn asked hesitantly.

Ignis nodded with a small smile. “Yes, it’s alright.” 

Oh. Ardyn growled without thinking. Ignis was letting him touch. Without even blinking an eye. While he kept his hand against Ardyn’s cheek. 

Squeezing Ignis’s shoulders greedily, Ardyn inched closer still. He could feel Ignis’s bones beneath his hands. How prominent they were. Covered by a hard shell of muscle on all sides. Unyielding.

_He’s trying to trick you, idiot!_ The daemons screamed. _Don’t give in. Get away from him before he…_

But there was Ignis’s neck. Ardyn clenched his teeth as his hardness twitched painfully. Was this a dream? Of course Ardyn had imagined numerous fantasies like this in the past few months, but he was beyond the point of actual dreaming…hallucinations, well, maybe…

He ran his fingers up the soft flesh on Ignis’s neck. The blind man hummed in approval, raising his head to let Ardyn’s fingers explore further.

This neck. This beautiful, soft, warm…strong, pulsing…this was Ignis’s own neck. Ardyn licked the corners of his mouth and swallowed to keep himself from drooling. 

Delicious. Ardyn’s fingers reverberated with the power and sensations of this man’s throat. He could do this forever.

But…why would Ignis allow this? The distant, vaguely rational parts of Ardyn’s mind could not come up with any reason. Other than trickery or some further element to their bargain. But Ignis had not said anything like that yet…

“Why…?” Ardyn began. His voice was lower than ever. Almost below the normal human ranges.

Ignis sighed. Ardyn could feel the man’s throat expanding under his hands and it excited him to no end. 

“Well, fair is fair.” Ignis’s good eye opened slightly, regarding Ardyn with an unseeing pupil. Somehow still as sharp as ever. “I’ve been doing this to you for a little while now. So it stands to reason you should be allowed to do the same to me.”

…Fairness? What? Ardyn frowned, unable to tell if Ignis was lying or not. Since when did fairness and mutual touching enter into their deal? Weren’t they businessmen operating under a contract? 

Moving easily under Ardyn’s hesitant touch, Ignis brought his other hand up to Ardyn’s face. He cupped the older man’s cheeks between both hands. 

Almost…lovingly. 

No. What was going on.

“May I…touch your face?” Ignis inquired delicately. “I’d like to have some more recent data on hand to help me picture you. Though I doubt I’d ever forget what you really look like.” 

Before getting permission, Ignis’s thumbs slid across Ardyn’s cheekbones. The touch was light but penetrating. Ardyn knew that Ignis was using all his sensory input to create some kind of mental image. To see him. To _know_.

_Yes, let him see you._

That unflappable part of him. It wanted Ignis to see him. In fact, it wished Ignis had always been able to. That this man who came to visit could know everything about Ardyn. Could catch the fleeting bits of emotion on his face that Ardyn knew were there. It…he wanted that…

But then…there was the rest of him. The rest of him was so infuriated that Ignis was doing as he pleased. Touching and feeling. Stroking his temples, sliding his fingers along his eyebrows as if reading information from a book…

Teasing Ardyn. Torturing him. Letting him touch but never intending to let him have. Riling him up to the point of no return and then leaving him to simmer, longing for next time. 

_To hell with him._ Ardyn hated him. Oh yes, he hated him very much.

So. Then. If Ignis wanted to see him, then he could see the real him. Right down to the dark truth.

Ardyn’s face turned cold underneath Ignis’s fingers. The air around them soured, turned thick with a daemonic miasma. On Ardyn’s cheeks, around the eyes and lower, there was a telltale wetness…it released a foul odor. Unmistakably the scent of Scourge. Vile and reeking of death. 

Ah. Ignis rubbed his fingers together, testing the sludge’s viscosity. Nodding in understanding—it seemed Ardyn had revealed his daemonic self to Ignis—the tactician laid both palms down on either side of the immortal’s face. He ignored the shiver creeping down at his spine at being in such close contact with Scourge. Instead he stroked the side of Ardyn’s mouth with his thumbs. A sticky mouth, twisted hard in a sneer.

Ardyn snarled, “This is me.” His voice sounded far removed from anything resembling a human. “Is this what you want to see? The origin of the Star Scourge? The thing you hate most in the world?”

Ignis took a deep breath. He did not flinch, not at the horrible smell, nor at the monstrous voice. He ran his fingers along the bridge of Ardyn’s nose. Still exploring his face like nothing had changed.

“Of course I’ve always known this is part of you.” Ignis wiped some of the Scourge on the immortal’s face as if wiping away tears.

Growling louder, Ardyn’s form darkened still. He looked and felt more like a skull with glowing eyes than a man. “Aren’t you disgusted?” 

Ignis tilted his head to one side, considering that. He stroked the slackening eyelids over Ardyn’s daemonic eyes. 

“I suppose so. On some level. But…to be frank, I’ve come across some rather sickening things in my time. After all, I was the sole caretaker of a teenage boy’s apartment for the better part of four years. I encountered…” He shook his head at the memory. “…unimaginable horrors…”

There were a few more notable occasions. A time when a slice of pizza had somehow gotten stuck underneath Noctis’s bed frame. Left to rot for weeks until the smell became so unbearable Ignis needed to wrap his mouth in a handkerchief when he went to investigate. Then there was another incident with a sock that Ignis had…forcibly willed himself to forget over the years. 

Suppressing a shiver, Ignis turned his attention back to Ardyn. “Suffice to say, my tolerance for disgust is a bit higher than most.” 

He paused, letting Ardyn (who had no earthly idea what to say to that) process. 

Then he said, “Prompto told me all about this hidden face of yours, but…to me, it does not feel so different.” Ignis ran his fingers up Ardyn’s forehead, gliding across the older man’s scalp. “Ah, see? No horns.” Down across Ardyn’s ears and over his lips. “No pointed ears, no sharpened fangs.” He picked up Ardyn’s hand and felt the immortal’s fingertips. “No claws.” Cupping the older man’s face between both hands again (somehow just as gently as before), he asked, “I suppose you don’t have a tail or any hoofed feet I should know about, hmm?” 

Ardyn’s miasmic aura thinned considerably. Deflated. “…No.”

“Splendid.” Ignis smiled a bit broader than before. He leaned in closer to Ardyn. “Still a man, then.” 

Ardyn closed his eyes as he felt the nearness of another living person. A person who saw Ardyn as…a man. Somehow. After knowing everything Ardyn had done, everything he really was, Ignis would choose to call him that. A man. A…human being. 

Ardyn’s daemonic visage faded away in an instant. His face returned to normal. The aura and ghastly smell dissipated, as did the ooze on his skin. He kept his eyes closed, somehow unable to actually look Ignis in the eye. 

He felt slightly ashamed. For putting that part of himself on display. For having it at all. He also felt more than a bit bashful. A little…timid about what Ignis would say next. He wanted—yes, Ardyn could acknowledge that he wanted this because there was nothing else anymore—for Ignis to accept him like that again. To…continue accepting him. It made Ardyn’s mind feel clouded, unfocused. His body felt needy. Just wanting to be close to Ignis for as long as possible.

Ignis pressed his forehead against Ardyn’s. An intimate, mutual touch. The immortal gasped breathily as he rubbed his their heads together. 

“If you plan on showing me that face again, perhaps I should wear my gloves next time?” Ignis asked. Probably facetiously, but. 

To Ardyn it just sounded like an optimistic promise. Ignis was willing to come back again after this. There would be a next time. Even if Ardyn put on the same freak show, Ignis would still touch him. 

A warmth settled somewhere inside of the immortal. He didn’t know exactly where it was. There were so many layers. So many unexplored depths inside him. He just knew that now, in addition to the daemons and everything else, there was a warmth as well.

It felt…really nice. Comforting in a way the Accursed was probably never meant to feel.

Still, one thing bothered him. Ardyn shook his head. “…No gloves.” He couldn’t abide that notion.

Ignis chuckled. “As you wish.”

They stayed in that position, heads together, for a few moments. Ardyn slowly grew accustomed to the feel of Ignis’s skin on his own. More than accustomed. He was enthralled by it. All other thoughts in his mind were quiet now. Nothing except his nerves and where they could register Ignis mattered now. The closeness.

…Well, that. And a greedy part of him that wanted more. His eyes flicked down to Ignis’s slightly parted lips. If he could only…

But then Ignis pulled away. Slowly, but well out of reach. He even slid back on the couch until he was leaning against the arm rest. Ardyn could not stop an undignified groan that escaped his lips. 

Finished already? Impossible!

Yet, instead of standing, Ignis laid down on his back. Head rest on the far arm of the couch. He adjusted his legs and arms, spreading them apart where he laid. Then he tossed a welcoming smile over to Ardyn. 

“Come here,” the blind man invited, beckoning Ardyn to him with both hands. “We can rest together for a bit, if you like.” 

Jaw dropping at such an unbelievable invitation, Ardyn wasted no time accepting. He could not muster any actual words, just a low moan, but he threw himself down on top of Ignis in a heartbeat. 

It had been infinitely long since the last time Ardyn laid in someone’s arms. He fell forward too roughly at first, knocking some of the wind out of Ignis in the process. Suddenly awkward, Ardyn balanced his weight on two hands, pressed on either side of Ignis’s face. He muttered something unintelligible, sort of asking if Ignis was alright with this. Requesting that the younger man take over.

Grinning patiently, Ignis guided Ardyn into a more comfortable position. He rested Ardyn’s head against his chest and allowed the older man to fit his legs in between Ignis’s own. Then he gently pressed the back of Ardyn’s head, inviting the immortal to lay down fully.

“Oh….” Ardyn sighed. He heaved such a weary breath. All the strength went out of him and he slowly surrendered his weight to Ignis. 

They were wrapped together. Touching everywhere. Every inch of Ardyn’s body was in contact with some part of Ignis. His head on the man’s pectoral muscles, his legs slotted between the younger man’s thighs. He rolled his face around on Ignis’s chest, engulfing himself in the sweet, heavenly smell of this man. His teeth clinked against the buttons on Ignis’s shirt and he thought about ripping them, but…perhaps that would be too far.

This moment was fragile. More than anything else they had done. Ardyn would try his hardest not to shatter this. A precious piece of intimacy.

But it was difficult to keep himself reigned in.

Ardyn’s nose caught on the opening in Ignis’s shirt, spreading it wider apart. Exposing some of the pale flesh of Ignis’s chest. Ardyn moaned outright at the sight, rubbing his cheek against the small bit of Ignis’s sternum that was showing. 

Fuck, he was hard. To his embarrassment, Ardyn realized that he was already a bit…slippery. Clearly ready for release. 

To be fair, he had been ready for ages.

“Unnh…” Ardyn grunted, trying to stave off his maddening desire. 

But…there. He could feel Ignis’s belt buckle pressing against his stomach. The belt buckle and _lower_ …

The knowledge that he was laying on top of Ignis’s most intimate parts drove Ardyn absolutely crazy. He couldn’t hope to hold back after that.

So, dissolving into molten need, Ardyn twisted his hips. He pressed his own hardness into the meat of Ignis’s thigh. Desperate for some kind of pressure there. A presence. _Ignis’s_ presence.

“Oh, my…” the blind man commented when he felt it. “You’ve been keeping that to yourself this whole time?”

Ardyn moaned. A bit in relief—Ignis was not throwing him off and packing his things, even though he must know by now how lustful Ardyn really was—and a bit in sheer pleasure. He rubbed the front of his pants against Ignis’s leg. 

Electric need shot through his veins. Ardyn shivered, tossing his head back. An unreal sensation…! Sending his mind reeling. He knew in his bones that he had maybe a few more of those thrusts before he came. 

He could get there like this. Without a doubt.

And he needed it. So badly. More than anything. 

He pushed himself into Ignis’s thigh again. Another gut-wrenching trill of pleasure rippled through him, numbing his hands and feet. 

Oh _yes_. So, so close…

_Wait. You haven’t asked him yet!_

Right. Ardyn rolled around to look up at Ignis. The blind man just seemed focused. Quiet.

“Can I…?” Ardyn asked, canting his hips forward again ever so slightly. To indicate what he meant and for more of that dear sweet pressure.

Ignis folded his arms around Ardyn. With one hand on the back of Ardyn’s head and the other wrapped around his body, Ignis held him in place. He nodded calmly. “Yes. Go ahead.” 

Moaning loudly, Ardyn gave himself over to pleasure. He thrust his hips quick and fast against Ignis’s thigh, reaching for his end like a man scrambling for purchase on the edge of a cliff. Ignis closed his eyes and let Ardyn rut against him. The tactician could feel every ounce of desperation in the immortal. The sheer need. The mind-blowing pleasure. 

He knew what Ardyn was feeling. This is what Ardyn had needed all along, the thing he had been fighting to hold back. A visceral human desire. Ignis predicted as much. So there wasn't much surprise.

Ignis wanted Ardyn to take what he needed. He wanted Ardyn to have his release and not feel guilty. He wanted the older man to enjoy himself. If Ignis shut down everything else, he could focus only on Ardyn’s pleasure and let it wash over both of them. 

Ignis could handle that.

He gripped Ardyn, feeling the man’s rough thrusts pick up speed. Then the immortal cried out brokenly and held his quivering hips against Ignis’s leg for a long, harsh moment. Ardyn went rigid as he stayed in that position…and then he collapsed with a gasp. 

Realizing it was over, Ignis allowed himself a sigh of relief. That was intense. Not just for Ardyn. Even being in the presence of something so clearly earth-shattering had taken a toll on Ignis. 

More than that though, Ignis felt a lingering sense of victory. He had taken Ardyn there. Given him a hard fought release. And now Ardyn was completely boneless on top of him. Panting and…? Ignis felt a slight tremor in Ardyn’s shoulders. He reached down to the older man’s hands and found they were also trembling. Rather badly, in Ignis’s opinion. 

“…You’re shaking,” Ignis commented, squeezing Ardyn’s fingers in an attempt to keep them still. “Are you alright?” 

Ardyn blinked slowly. Heat rushed through him at all angles. Everywhere. Pounding in his ears. His limbs were not cooperating. Joints and extremities quivering. 

He had just climaxed for the first time in hundreds of years. 

His mouth felt cottony. Thick and slow. His brain was only just starting to work again. He heard Ignis’s voice but it sounded distant and Ardyn could only vaguely make out the words. However, he felt Ignis’s hands traveling down his body. A hand wrapped around his own. He tried to squeeze Ignis back, but his fingers were suddenly so damn clumsy. 

“Ardyn?” Ignis asked, a little concerned. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” 

The immortal swallowed a mouthful of saliva. He felt dizzy and a bit confused. How had they gotten to this point again? Wasn’t there something else he was supposed to be doing? Surely there was a piece missing. Something he had forgotten…

…But Ardyn could not think of anything. He grumbled something incoherent and tried to raise himself into a sitting position. Needless to say, he failed. His arms were suddenly made of gelatin, unable to support him.

“Easy…” Ignis began hesitantly. He patted Ardyn’s head and pressed him back down against his chest. “…Relax. Just breathe for a moment. Steady, now.” 

Ardyn followed the directions without argument. He closed his eyes, focused on the comforting presence of Ignis’s hands. Soft, sure fingers stroking through his hair. He felt the way Ignis’s chest rose up and down as the blind man breathed, so he copied the rhythm with his own breath. In and out…slowly. 

Warm, soothing relief spread through the immortal. Yes. He was alright. They were fine like this. They both still had all their clothes on. And Ignis was calm so this must have been part of the plan. Part of…something.

Oh, Ardyn felt so incredibly satisfied.

Fuck, he really needed that.

“It must have been a long time for you…” Ignis commented, continuing to stroke Ardyn’s hair.

The immortal chucked quietly. “You have no idea.” 

Sleep was not something the Accursed generally needed. But, there were times when Ardyn felt tired enough that his mind went blank and he passed into something closely resembling sleep. It did not happen often. 

There, laying sprawled on top of his guest, the immortal fell unconscious. As near as he could get, anyway. 

Registering that the older man had fallen asleep, Ignis nodded silently to himself.This had gone…more or less as expected. Ardyn finally allowed himself to let go. That was a good thing. Perhaps now the insurmountable barriers between them had become just a bit more…bearable.

And, to Ignis, it seemed unreasonably painful for a man to linger on through the centuries without the comfort of sexual release. Even a man like Ardyn. Cruel and unusual. And something like that, a quick frot, hardly counted as anything inIgnis’s book. Yet, there was Ardyn, coming so hard from so very, very little. In all truth, Ignis could only be glad he had ended the drought in Ardyn’s life. Just on an empathetic level.

That was reassuring.

He held Ardyn for the rest of the night.

_________________________________________

The following day, Ardyn came back to consciousness when he recognized the soft pattering of rain against the side of the Citadel. It took him a few minutes to reassert himself with his environment. 

Where was he again? Oh, right, the vestibule. On the couch. …Why? Because Ignis had appeared again at his door the night before and…

…Ah. Yes. The memories came flooding back to Ardyn. He felt a certain…sensation in his pants and realized all of that had actually just happened.

Well. 

He did not exactly know what to say.

Perhaps he had just embarrassed the hell of out himself. Made himself look like something lower than mortal. Climaxing just by rubbing himself against Ignis like some kind of…animal. Or worse. A daemon. But then…

…Ardyn also remembered the unflinching presence of Ignis’s hands. Holding him, stroking his face. Ignis had not appeared turned off or disgusted. Not at any point, really. 

And yet. Ardyn’s face met with the scratchy surface of the couch. Ignis was not here now. 

Eyebrows knitting in discomfort and confusion, Ardyn sat up. He still felt a little out of it. Quite dizzy. But at least the feeling in his limbs had returned. He thought perhaps he might even be able to stand now.

“Oh, are you awake?”

Startled, Ardyn whipped around to face the voice over by the door. Sure enough, Ignis was standing there. It seemed he had never left. And, gods damn this man, he stood with his cane in one hand, clothes completely smooth. Not one hair out of place. 

The picture of self confidence. 

…Naturally.

Ardyn sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. “Still here?” he asked grouchily. 

Ignis nodded. “Mm, yes. Good morning. The rain seems to have slowed my progress today.” 

Hmph, that made sense. Ardyn stared out the open door at the pouring rain. Precipitation from the heavens was foul these days. Poisoned with Scourge. Not a great thing to be out in, that’s for sure. Drinking water needed to be purified and generally people tried not to travel when it rained. 

So that’s why Ignis stayed. 

Ardyn glanced to the side. He did not know how to act now that they had…well, since last night. Nothing really happened at all and yet…Ardyn had never felt more vulnerable. Both while it was happening and even now. 

What must Ignis think of him…? 

…And why did he care what Ignis thought? 

Well, he wouldn’t normally care. Except that Ignis had shown him a remarkable amount of patience and acceptance the night before. Things that Ardyn did not take lightly (because there had been no one else like Ignis in all of his long life). And now…perhaps his lack of control had been far too repulsive, even by Ignis’s standards. 

A creeping feeling of shame crawled up his back.

“So…” Ignis tapped back over to the couch. Ardyn stared up at him warily. “I suppose I could stay here a little longer. If…that’s alright with you?” 

The immortal sighed. Actually, he preferred to be alone right now. His head was still not together. He wanted to sort himself out. 

But there was no other choice. He wouldn’t send Ignis out in the rain after…that. 

“You can do as you like,” Ardyn answered tersely. He rose to his feet and thought about walking away. 

Ignis, as calm as ever, sat back down. “How are you feeling today?” he asked. “Well rested?” 

The question stabbed at Ardyn’s pride. “St—mm…” He wanted to tell Ignis to stop, to never mention what had happened ever again. But…what was the point in doing that. 

It happened. Now they both had to deal with it. Especially if Ignis was planning on continuing this little agreement of theirs. Which it looked like he was. 

Slowly, Ardyn stared back at the man. He was unreadable as ever, but that didn’t surprise the immortal anymore. “I’m fine,” he responded. “….” He meant to say something else, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Ignis gestured with one hand. As if waiting for more details. Then he simply said, “…That’s good, isn’t it?” 

Ardyn sighed. Why was Ignis so incapable of just getting to the point? Clearly, if Ignis wanted to continue their…business relationship, then he should just come out with his terms. Make his demands. Since Ardyn obviously already made his the night before.

“Enough. Just…” Ardyn folded his arms impatiently. “…If you have more stipulations, name them.”

Ignis frowned. “I’m sorry?” 

Rolling his eyes at the little show, Ardyn bit back his temper and began again. “I’m sure you feel that I owe you some…back pay. Do you not? So tell me what it is you want. What you really came here for.” 

“Back pay? For last night, you mean? …Mmm.” Ignis shook his head for a moment and then shrugged. “I understand. But honestly…you don’t need to feel that way. You don’t owe me anything. Last night was my choice and I don’t…feel slighted, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

A nagging voice in the back of Ardyn’s head told him this was all a trick. A long con, perhaps. Ignis lying to lead him on…

…But…

Ignis had said nothing about terms the night before. Not while they were laying down together and not after. Any other time Ignis usually made his demands clear beforehand. Beyond that, it seemed like Ignis had been planning to leave without anything extra in the morning. Could it be that he was telling the truth…?

“Can we please cut the bullshit?” Ardyn grumbled, still not believing him. “Tell me what you’re after. I’m giving it to you, I already agreed.” 

Ignis shook his head again. He inched closer to Ardyn. “It…doesn’t have to be like that between us. Tit for tat. Completely reciprocal every time. Perhaps we should…loosen the agreement to include a variety of favors. When you need something, I oblige. When I need something, you oblige. …Does that sound feasible?” 

The gears in Ardyn’s head began turning. If Ignis was offering that then perhaps Ardyn could ask for a number of things. There were, indeed, quite a lot of situations he could come up with that he wanted…oh, so many…

He stared at Ignis’s lips and thought about just leaning in and kissing him. That was right at the top of his list.

“…Within reason, of course,” Ignis added. 

Ah. The rub. “So, we’re still on your terms no matter what?” Ardyn spat back. 

“I’m…afraid so, yes,” Ignis said with a frown. 

The immortal sighed. This was all just nonsense. Ignis was playing some sort of impossibly long game that even Ardyn could not see the end of. Pointless. 

“How convenient for you,” Ardyn rebuked. “But I’d prefer to keep everything totally square. No need to obfuscate matters. A favor for a favor. That’s all I’ll agree to.” 

Better that way. Now Ardyn could easily keep a mental ledger of everything Ignis took from him and everything he owed. It was easy to bring this all back to tangible things. That way there was no messiness about…feelings and whatnot. Ardyn would honestly have no idea where to begin with an arrangement like that. How could he…? No, far too ridiculous. 

They would keep it on the books. 

_Even though that hurts? Don’t you want to just spend time with him and give him whatever he wants if—_

Ardyn wished he could slap that damn voice.

Ignis sighed. “As you like.” 

“Yes. So.” Ardyn picked his coat off the floor (where it had been sitting for a few days now) and put it back on. His intention was to cover any stains, even though he knew that was needless. Ignis could not see him. Despite how much he seemed to be able to perceive about Ardyn, he was still fucking blind. 

Reaffixing his scarf, Ardyn went on. “Your terms, if you would.” 

Ignis rose to his feet. His face had gone from soft to serious. A easy as anything. Because of course it did. “Tell me, how much control do you have over the daemon hordes?”

Ardyn snorted. “Ah. But, with the daemons…it’s so difficult to put our relationship into words. Let me answer your question with another question. How much control does a behemoth have over a nest of wasps?” 

“…Does that mean you can manipulate them?” Ignis appeared unamused.

Well, at this wasn’t a boring request. “To an extent. And through a sheer display of force. Might against might, as fate would have it.”

“I…see,” Ignis began. “Can you drive them back from the settlement in Cleigne?” 

“Cleigne? That tiny little outpost? Aren’t you more worried about Lestallum?”

Ignis took a deep breath. “Lestallum can hold out for now. But Cleigne will soon perish with the way things stand. I’m asking you to drive back the daemons as far as you can for as long as you can. If you’re able.” 

“Yes, yes.” Ardyn ran a hand through his hair, trying not to compare the way his hands felt as opposed to Ignis’s. Oh, it would be a while before he could forget those hands. “I’ll push back those nasty creatures for you. I suspect I can hold them off for about…mmm, a year? Maybe a little more…we shall see.” 

“That would be much appreciated,” Ignis replied. He did not sound cold, but his voice was nowhere near as warm as it was the night before. Nor even a moment ago.

The warmth that had settled in Ardyn’s core cooled somewhat. 

That…hurt. 

_But it needs to be like this!_ The daemons clamored. _What else is there?_

_Genuine connection?_

No. Ardyn shook his head. Even though that voice somehow always managed to be right (no way that voice was a daemon. Ardyn began to suspect he knew the origins of that damned rogue consciousness, and it made him sick), Ardyn could not yield to what it wanted. Not…all the time. 

There were too many years. Too many things in between him and that part of himself. The last remaining human part. He could live with it, but he could not let it rule him.

That time, the time when his human feelings won out, was long over. That’s the truth. This was the world of darkness. His world, really.

The rain lightened to barely a drizzle, then a few scant drops. Ignis turned his face towards the door. “I believe I can manage now,” he announced. Rising to his feet, Ignis tapped across the vestibule. 

As he brushed past Ardyn, he gave the older man a light squeeze to the shoulder.

A rare moment of affection. One Ardyn had not been looking for. But it reminded him so nicely of their night spent laying together. Hands and bodies meeting unvoiced needs. Without thinking, Ardyn returned the gesture. He held Ignis’s hand and gently squeezed. 

The immortal would never tire of these hands. That was the other truth. He would never tire of their touch. Nor of the man who wielded them.

“And I’ll see you again…?” Ardyn asked quietly.

“The next time I come for healing supplies. Or, perhaps in Cleigne. We might run into each other there.” Ignis patted him goodbye and embarked into the unending night. “So. Until then.” 

There were still boundaries between them. Still a level of unease that would never really go away.

But they would always have memories of a night together. And the small, lingering touches that served as a reminder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next chapter will be the last! Woo! We're getting there, lol. Sometimes longfics happen...#truth. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always! Here's a few more bits of my soul <3<3<3


	6. Pay-out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years is a long time.

Their deal had its limits. But, in spite of everything, it became a lasting arrangement.

They carried on like this for the next three years.

In a lot of ways, they both had made peace with the unspoken things between them. Because there was still a fair amount of unease and broken trust that would endure forever. Ardyn would never give himself fully to Ignis, and Ignis would never welcome Ardyn into both arms without any reservations. 

As the years passed, though, this seemed to matter less and less.

Once their boundaries were firmly in place, their time together became much less tense. Much easier to anticipate. Ignis would stroke Ardyn over his clothes, massage him. On rare occasions—when Ardyn’s body became an unruly pile of nerves and need—Ignis would allow the immortal to lay on him. The tactician would lie still underneath him while Ardyn took his pleasure in small, quick thrusts. Just enough to sate the Accursed so that he did not descend into madness, but never more than that. Never any contact beneath the clothes. Never anything that could be considered shared intimacy (although, each experience they had felt more than intimate enough).

They kept it like that.

Indeed, Ardyn was able to drive back the daemons from Cleigne. For a good year, as promised. As well as from Rydelle, old Lestallum, and eventually Hammerhead. It turned out Ardyn had more control over the eastern parts of the map. He mumbled some excuse about the daemons being sensitive to the Crystal in the crown city, but Ignis believed that Ardyn just tried a little harder closer to the Citadel. For his own purposes. 

Gladiolus raised his eyebrows once—only once—at their so-called “strokes of good fortune” with the daemons. It was impossible not to notice how the daemons seemed to bump up against an invisible barrier a mile or two outside of their safe havens. 

One time, an occasion that Gladiolus would never tell anyone else, he saw Ardyn. The Accursed was standing in front of an onslaught of daemons and, ever so slowly (like herding sheep), pushing them back. 

“I’ll say this,” the former Shield said to Ignis, in a rare moment of privacy when it was just the three of them (Prompto included). “If you’re fucking with that guy, Iggy…” 

But then Gladiolus found that he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t even know what to say. They all knew who he meant, what he was referring to. There was not much room for doubt about what was really happening at that point.

Ignis sat poised on the cot of the caravan they were sharing. Over the years, he had exchanged his dark glasses for a silver visor, making his face more inscrutable than ever. Unsmiling, unflinching, Ignis replied, “Yes, go on. Tell me. If I am…?” 

Gladiolus threw his hands up in defeat. “I don’t know. I don’t even fucking know, alright? Just…make sure you know what the hell you’re doing. If you even care about saving your own neck anymore.”

“Guys…” Prompto began quietly. His eyes betrayed how tired he was getting. Tired of everything, in so many ways.

“Well, certainly.” Ignis tugged one knee over the other. “It seems saving our own necks is all we’re good for these days, isn't it.” 

“You got a problem with staying alive?” Gladiolus wasn’t even angry. The fire in his characteristic rage had gone out a few years back. But he still chomped at the bit for an argument, just on principle.

“Not at all,” Ignis answered. “In fact that’s entirely what I aim to get out of this, if you’d like to know.” 

Silence settled over them. It lingered for a long, harsh moment. 

Then Prompto sighed. “Let’s just agree on something. Right now.” He raised his eyes slowly. “We can have secrets. Secrets are okay, maybe even a good thing, yeah? As long as we all promise to keep surviving. That’s the goal, so…let’s never forget that. Okay?” 

“Agreed.” Ignis answered right away, tilting his face to the ground. 

Gladiolus took a deep, heavy breath. “…Yeah. Alright. Surviving.” He laid back down on the cot, already conceding the point, if he'd ever had one. “But you won’t hear another word about this from me. So if you get in too deep, Iggy…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Realistically, they all knew Gladiolus would never give up on Ignis. He wouldn’t abandon his lifelong friend to some horrible fate at Ardyn’s hands, even if that’s what he was trying to imply.

And somehow, by bringing up the implication and letting it hang in silence, Gladiolus only reminded them how close they were. How far they would go for each other. 

Far enough to let each other to do something completely dangerous. Something more than a little crazy. …As long as it was for a good reason (and staying alive was the best and only reason now). 

In spite of everything, the heavy sense of mutual appreciation between the three of them was palpable. 

A small smile tugged at Ignis’s lips. “Duly noted,” he said. 

_____________________________________________

Ardyn was comfortable with the idea that through measured contact with Ignis he could keep his human desires at bay. Never too much contact, of course—nothing close to the wild fantasies his body concocted during the dry spells in between visits. Just enough. Actually Ignis was quite good at reading him. The blind man could divine exactly what Ardyn needed on each occasion and then promptly give it to him. 

…That should probably worry Ardyn on some level, but. Distantly, he was just impressed. Ignis’s hands were like Oracles in and of themselves. Unholy Oracles that had otherworldly knowledge of Ardyn’s body. His little tells, his favorite things. Precisely what he wanted, sometimes even before the immortal knew himself. Really, that was impressive!

Ardyn eventually got to a point where he would allow himself to rely on Ignis. He had needs. Might as well accept that. Ardyn had small, unflagging needs that he had to address or else he risked dissolving into the puddle of over-sensitive flesh he became in those first few months. He could depend on Ignis to meet those needs. Succinctly.

That was alright. All of it was still within the parameters of their deal.

_Lean forward…_

And yet. There was one more thing Ardyn’s humanity desired. One persistent little desire his human side craved so badly. Enough to conjure images in Ardyn’s mind at the most random times. Goading him on. Driving him inexorably forward, to the point where he _needed_ it.

But Ignis was particularly withholding about this thing. When they laid together, Ardyn sometimes dragged his face closer to Ignis’s. He hovered hesitantly over Ignis’s mouth, questioning and silently begging for it…

…Only to have Ignis turn his face the other way. Or else cover Ardyn’s mouth with his fingers and gently shake his head no. A quiet decline. 

Ardyn would groan in disappointment, but he always backed off. Despite the sliver of shame that worked its way into him—the shame of even trying—he held fast to the terms of their agreement. Ignis could pull the plug at any time. They both learned to work with that.

_Lean forward…close the distance…_

Still. Fucking still. Always. Ardyn could not deny that he wanted it. 

Perhaps…if he could just find something to offer Ignis in a suitable trade. Something that would encourage Ignis to agree to do this thing for him. Even though, surprisingly, there was not much the blind man wanted. He came and went for medical supplies. He asked for more help with the daemons, hardly a tiresome task as far as Ardyn was concerned. Never anything beyond that. Which was difficult to believe because…well, Ignis could be asking for the whole Citadel by now and Ardyn would have trouble denying such a request.

But Ignis never once asked to go anywhere beyond the vestibule. He did not ask about the throne room, nor any of his former personal chambers. Nothing. 

_Too many memories._

Yes. No doubt. (See? That voice could be useful for something: Understanding other people’s whims.)

Regardless, Ardyn knew a certain thing Ignis would always want. His trump card. A secret he kept tucked away from the world, never giving any hints. He had originally thought he would hide this knowledge forever.

After three years of staring longingly at Ignis’s lips, Ardyn figured it was time to play his hand to the fullest.

“I wonder…” Ardyn voiced aloud one day, while Ignis was putting his gloves back on after a session together. The immortal’s skin still tingled so nicely, a feeling he had come to expect by now. A warm rush of adrenaline and need filled him, fueling some hidden addiction.

Ignis adjusted his visor, straightening his clothes in that surreptitious and precise way he had. He waited for Ardyn to finish his thought, but the older man stayed quiet. So, turning his face in the immortal’s direction, Ignis prompted him to continue. Once Ardyn began an idea, it was better in the long run for him to just spit it out. Or else Ignis would have to work harder figuring it out on his own. A tiresome thing. They were kind of past that now. 

“…You wonder.”

“Yes.” Ardyn rose to his feet, stretching in a languid way (entirely for show). “Some wicked questions do pop into my mind from time to time. For instance, where did you learn how to do all this? How to please a man with only your hands the way you do?”

Ignis stiffened. He did not know how to put it lightly, that what he was doing would not count as strictly sexual to most men. So instead he said, “Is that what I’m doing? Pleasing you?”

“Oh, come. Don’t be coy with me.” Ardyn broke out into a grin. He sauntered over to Ignis and put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Gripping him with just enough force to remind Ignis of the vast difference between their power. “You knew what you were doing the second you walked in here, years ago. Right from the start.” 

As usual, Ignis did not falter underneath the touch. He let Ardyn knead his shoulder muscles in an intimidating way, thinking only of what the other man might want out of all this. 

They had just lain together three weeks ago. It was too soon for another round of that, if Ignis was not mistaken…

Unless…

He frowned. “Maybe so. In that case, would you consider yourself quite pleased with my services?” 

Ardyn’s mouth watered at those words. He loved when Ignis was straightforward with him. Blunt about what they were to each other. Also, that comment hinted at the idea that Ardyn could ask for more. More _services._

The immortal licked his lips in anticipation. “Yes. Yes I would. Very much so.” He could not hold back the dark lilt that entered his voice. “Except…we both know there is something you’ve been holding back from me.” 

Ignis sighed. Of course he already knew what this was about. “And what would that be?” 

Ardyn reached up with one thumb and stroked Ignis’s lips. His whole body hardened when those soft, moist pieces of skin parted for him. So fucking sexy. Ardyn needed to exert full control not to attack Ignis right then and there.

“The pleasure of these lips, naturally,” Ardyn admitted, dark and low. “A thing I have long been denied. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Ignis smiled underneath Ardyn’s finger. With the visor on, that smile never reached his eyes. His grin had become an eerie, uncanny sight. The blind man hummed thoughtfully. He allowed Ardyn to touch him for a few moments longer, then he gripped the older man’s wrist and gently tugged his hand away. 

“Well. If that’s what you want then…" Ignis felt around for Ardyn’s face. He found it, tracing the stubble around Ardyn’s chin. “…you’ll have to make it worth my while.” 

Even though he had been expecting this answer, it still sent a brief tremor of…discomfort through Ardyn’s heart. His internal landscape was a rather complicated thing, he realized by now. There were ins and outs, twists and peaks, hidden soft places and lurking pitfalls. Secret areas that longed to be warm, a feeling only Ignis could give him. 

And for some reason, knowing that Ignis was holding back his kiss because he wanted Ardyn to offer him something adequate in return…a tumultuous ache spiraled deep inside him. 

_Still cunning._

_Here it is at last, the man’s game. The long con._

_Selfish, grinning, arrogant, stupid, hateful—_

“Is there anything that could persuade you?” Ardyn asked quietly, shushing the daemon’s anger and trying to focus on rational terms. 

“I don’t know…” Ignis began. He stroked the side of the immortal’s face once more. “Perhaps if you’re very, very good to me. Better than ever before, I’d say.” 

Here was the real difference in their power. With a few words and a brief touch, Ignis could turn the tables on them in an instant. 

Ardyn’s manhood twitched painfully. He had a brief vision (one he’d entertained in the past, admittedly) of dropping to his knees before Ignis. Kissing the man’s hands and rubbing his face into Ignis’s thigh. Prostrating himself, silently. And then…the other fantasy…

…Letting Ignis take the throne while Ardyn sat on the ground by his feet. Lapping at his fingers like a thrall—

Gods forsake him. Why did that image get him so riled up? It was an impossible, humiliating daydream and yet it never failed to make Ardyn tremble with harsh desire whenever he thought of it. 

But that was _never_ going to happen. Never never never. It was nice to imagine (even though that alone was shameful enough), but Ardyn would _never…_

_Do you think he would agree to it?_

Ardyn snarled as his human side voiced its thoughts. He would never offer that—no matter what. Besides, he still had his trump card to consider! The thing he had been planning on offering Ignis, something that was truly no cost to himself in the long run.

“I can tell you when Noctis will emerge from the Crystal.”

Damn. He forgot to make himself sound clever when he said that. Because he was so infuriatingly caught up battling the conflicting cravings within. So, opportunity missed.

But, alas, no matter. His words had the desired effect. Ignis went stock still, his mouth falling open slightly in an uncharacteristic display of genuine surprise. 

“You…” Ignis began, fighting to keep his breath even. It felt like his heart had completely stopped and now Ignis was struggling to keep the rest of his body from shutting down as well. “…know when he’ll…?” 

“Mmm…” Ardyn clicked his tongue in mock thoughtfulness. “More or less. I used to be Lucian royalty as well, you see. My connection to the Crystal has never completely waned. I can feel him in there, feel the energy binding him. It's holding him tight, but…I think I have a good idea when it will decide to release him.” 

A rough tremor wracked Ignis’s shoulders and arms. He exhaled rapidly. 

The former advisor had never, in all these years, expected to hear those words. If he knew that Ardyn had that knowledge then he would have—oh. He did not know just what he would have given to learn when his king would finally, finally return.

And now all Ardyn wanted was a kiss in exchange?

A wave of harsh rationality rose up from underneath Ignis’s desperation. He needed to verify the truth of this. He needed to discuss the timeframe with the others. (And if it is outside your lifetime…?) Inconsequential. Painful, but still necessary to know. At least then Ignis would have an idea how long humanity needed to hold out before Noctis came back. The knowledge was precious beyond belief. 

“Ardyn.” Ignis grabbed Ardyn’s shoulder. His voice was gruff, demanding to its full potential. “Is this a trick?”

The immortal shook his head no. Ignis could feel and hear the movement. “Not a trick. Just a bargain, like always.” 

Certainly.

Nodding once in understanding, Ignis straightened his back with utter determination. He grabbed Ardyn’s face in both hands and brought their lips together for a rough, thorough kiss. 

It was the first mutual act they had ever done together. Ignis needed to tilt himself upward, gaining a height of a few inches to make their mouths meet. When they did, the tactician worked his lips against Ardyn’s soft, surprisingly pliant mouth in a well-practiced way. The immortal basically froze, unable to process the moments fast enough to respond to Ignis, so the blind man had complete control over the kiss. The stubble around the older man’s face burned Ignis’s smooth skin slightly. Ardyn tasted like…spit and something else. A weird, sweet taste. Not unlike the bitterness of dark chocolate, but of course not nearly as pleasant. 

This close, Ardyn’s smell permeated all of Ignis’s senses. He could taste him, feel him, hear him. Ardyn’s essence washed over Ignis and somehow…penetrated him.

Thoughts came agonizingly slow to Ardyn while they kissed. The immortal could only register a wonderful cloying taste on his tongue and a gentle massage on the most sensitive part of his face. His body resonated with pleasure. This was _Ignis_ doing this to him. Kissing him. Of his own volition. Aggressively. Owning his lips. 

Ardyn could feel the way Ignis was getting some kind of enjoyment out of this kiss. There was no way to know for certain what manner of pleasure it was (a power trip? Normal lust? Perhaps a simple measure of comfort that Ignis had been denied himself for far too long now?), but Ardyn’s human form sang with happiness when he felt it. Ignis wanted this. He wanted him. 

_Ah, yes. Take whatever you like. Kiss me, kiss me…don’t stop…_

Ignis was losing himself to the kiss. It felt, undoubtedly…good. So good. Better than Ignis would ever have thought possible. Maybe the best kiss of his life. It ignited something that had been sleeping inside Ignis for years. Rugged desire. He wanted to fall to the floor with this man. Let their hands roam. Throw Ardyn down and…and…

Seconds away from losing himself completely to lust, a pang of reason threw itself at Ignis like a life raft. 

Noctis.

Right. His king…

Clinging to the memory of his true motives, Ignis climbed out of his revery. He forced himself to let go of Ardyn. To stop kissing him. Move back. They separated just as harshly as they had come together. 

It took a few moments of panting and swirling thoughts before either of them spoke. 

Rubbing his lips in absent thought, trying to will his feelings away, Ignis shook his head to one side. Clearing it. He had been about to go farther with Ardyn than ever before. A place they could not come back from. He reprimanded himself for his lack of control, not even touching the question of what exactly had come over him. No need to go there. 

“Well then…” Ignis said slowly, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his stance (far more gracefully than he had any right to). “…you were saying?” 

Ardyn’s knees felt wobbly. He had tried to grasp Ignis by the collar to keep their lips together but his grip was too weak. He had not been prepared, not quite anyway, for the sheer force of that kiss. For the way it would make him feel. To be the on one end of a shared experience with this man. 

Almost like they were…

“…Five years,” Ardyn said around a mouthful of slobber. “Give or take a year, maybe. That’s my best estimation.” 

Ignis put a hand to his chest, trying to hold back the erratic beating of his heart. Five years. Nothing compared to wait he feared. Five years—they had already survived that long in darkness hadn’t they? They were halfway out! And Ignis would live to greet his king again. To put an end to all this at last.

Five years. So doable. Relief trickled down Ignis’s tense body. He thought for a moment he might be overcome with emotion and kiss Ardyn one more time, but…he held himself together.

“Do you…” the strategist began again. “…have any way to verify this information?”

Ardyn made his way on unsteady feet to the couch. He threw himself down and hesitantly took stock of himself. He was still in one piece, anyway. Though his mind had been scattered to the winds for a few minutes there.

The immortal swallowed. The taste of Ignis lingered in his mouth. Smiling secretly, he replied, “Not at all. It’s just what I’m sensing, being so close to the Crystal all this time. I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”

At this point, even a lie (though Ignis did not feel that Ardyn was flat out lying to him) was better than nothing. It gave Ignis something to hold onto. That was worth quite a lot.

“Very well.” Ignis nodded and collected himself once more. 

There was much to do. He needed to get back to Hammerhead and discuss this with the others. He needed to reflect on this information and decide their next plan of action. He needed to think about Noctis and try his best not to consider what he had just been about to do. 

“But I’ll keep you updated!” Ardyn called, as Ignis tapped his way towards the door. “I know how dear your True King is to you. So I won’t keep you in the dark…so to speak.” He chuckled, almost giddy now from this delightful turn of events. “As long as you don’t deny me those sweet lips any longer.” 

Striding towards the door, Ignis announced his response. “Then we’re in agreement.” 

Splendid. 

That couldn’t have gone better.

_____________________________________________

Ignis broke the news at dinner with Gladiolus and Prompto the following evening. He made some behemoth tenderloin in light soup (the best way to keep their meat supply plentiful was to make stews. Pair the precious, dwindling meat with broth and vegetables. The servings went farther that way). Instead of tempering the information with some sort of lead-in, the blind man just told them straight away. Once they all settled down to eat.

“I have it on good authority that Noctis will return in five years,” Ignis said, chewing delicately on a chunk of meat. 

Prompto dropped his spoon. Gladiolus’s knee bumped the bottom of the table, shaking their soups precariously. 

“Wh-what…?” the former Shield squawked. “How did you…?”

“Five years? Are you sure, Iggy…?” Prompto stuttered, breathless himself.

“Sure? No.” Ignis slurped his soup again. “But I have a definite hunch.” 

After another round of heavy silence, his two companions broke out into uneasy laughter. They were just as relieved as Ignis had been when he first learned the news. It was not totally easy to accept—five years was not a day, after all—but it was so much better than the alternatives. 

Prompto banged his forehead on the table, going limp and giggly. Gladiolus hung his head in his hands and fought back the wetness trying to leak from his eyes. 

Smiling, quite pleased with himself, Ignis continued eating his meal. 

Well that was worth it.

_____________________________________________

After that, Ardyn made sure to inform Ignis whenever another year passed. 

“Four years, now, my dear chamberlain.” That earned the immortal a second kiss. 

“Three years to go.” Another kiss, this one almost brutal in its intensity.

“Only two years left.” A kiss to his lips and each of his eyes. Such a sweet moment.

“Next year, I’d wager! Are you ready for your king?” 

Ignis questioned from time to time whether Ardyn was telling the truth about all this. But, he remained consistent for the years they had left. Keeping the countdown predictable. Beyond that, once they had less than year left of Noctis’s slumber, Ardyn’s behavior seemed to change.

He become more…withdrawn. Quieter. During their brief sessions, Ardyn was unmoved when Ignis left, where normally he would throw out some trite insults or taunts. Even when they spent a night together, the immortal was less animated. He dragged himself to Ignis and took his pleasure, then lingered awake for the reminder of the night. 

Because. Every word that Ardyn said to Ignis about Noctis’s return was the truth. He could sense the Chosen One and the Crystal’s energy, and he told Ignis all that he knew. This was his final move and Ardyn intended to play it like a man of his word. 

Noctis would come back to the corporeal world soon enough.

That meant his time with Ignis was ending.

One night, during their last month together, Ardyn laid in Ignis’s arms for the final time. His head rested against Ignis’s chest, facing outward, leaning back on Ignis’s comfortable, reclining body. He had taken his pleasure for the night already and now, in the moments following his much needed orgasm, Ardyn’s mind was clear. These were his few minutes of total clarity. 

Ignis lazily ran his fingers through Ardyn’s crimson hair. He played with the frayed edges absentmindedly. All familiar touches by now. 

They did not talk of Noctis’s return anymore. They did not need to. Ignis could tell by the way Ardyn carried himself that his king would come back soon.

That meant the prophecy would be fulfilled. 

Ignis understood why Ardyn was withdrawing. Of course it made sense. According to the prophecy, Noctis would kill him. Ignis intuited that perhaps Ardyn was not even entirely against such a notion. It seemed the bitter fight in the immortal had receded somewhat. 

That was fair. How could someone enjoy the kind of existence Ardyn endured? Ignis knew, better than anyone, what Ardyn’s life was like. If ‘life’ was even the word. Clearly Ardyn took no joy out of his immortality, and most likely he never really had. At least, not for ages now. 

Brushing Ardyn’s bangs away from his cold face, Ignis whispered, “Will you…see the Astral Realm? When it’s over?” 

It was a blunt, dark question. Saying that implied that Ignis wholeheartedly believed Noctis would be able to kill him. And that the Chosen King would not hold back. Which, of course, the former advisor did believe. He saw it as the inevitable truth.

Ardyn closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t even care that Ignis was talking about his defeat. What did that matter. Probably Noctis would win their battle. It was all part of the design. And it was clear that something was about to happen, no matter the outcome of his challenge match with Noctis. So, Ignis’s question was still valid. Would Ardyn ever reach that realm?

The Astral Realm. Ardyn had seen it once. But he had not been allowed to stay. He was banished by the Draconian, forced to live cursed forevermore. Would such a curse ever be lifted? Even in the afterlife? Would the Astrals let Ardyn into their realm at last?

“Doubtful,” the Accursed answered. More likely than not, he would be cast into hell. Or maybe just nothingness. Unawareness. Nonexistence. Something along those lines. 

Ignis frowned. “Then…what will happen to you? Where will you go?”

Ardyn sighed. He turned his cheek to the side, pressing himself closer to Ignis’s chest. “Who knows,” he said. “The prophecy is a little ambiguous about that. To put it mildly.” 

Ignis ran the backs of his fingers down the side of Ardyn’s face. He stayed quiet for a long while. 

It was hard to wrap his head around the fact that this man, the man currently laying prone in his arms, would disappear soon. Surrender to an unknown fate. Ignis knew that the darkness within Ardyn needed to be purged. The Scourge needed to end. He knew that, most likely, Noctis would die too. 

And then Ignis would be alone. Without either of them.

The blind man reflected on this, quietly, in the back of his mind. That life, a life in the sun with neither Noctis nor Ardyn to turn to, was completely foreign to him. An unknowable entity. Ignis would have to relearn everything if he survived long enough to reach that life. How to live for himself again. 

It would be…hard.

Ignis gathered Ardyn closer to himself, hugged him just a little tighter. “Perhaps you’ll live,” he said, throwing the idea out as a pleasantry to keep them both satisfied for the night. “Maybe you’ll survive the end of the Scourge. And then you can see the Dawn with everyone else. Experience it with us.” 

Ardyn scoffed at that. He chuckled deep in his throat, then shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my dear.” 

The Dawn was not for him. He knew that. Whatever happened, Ardyn was not headed for the Dawn. The sun abandoned him, and Ardyn had completely turned his back on all light in return.

His humanity and everything else was not long for this world. That was a certainty. 

“Well, then…” Ignis said, running his palms down Ardyn’s chest. Lovingly. Invitingly. “…shall we enjoy what little time we have left?”

Smiling dryly, Ardyn rolled his body around. He buried his face against Ignis’s neck. His voice was muffled as he spoke so close to Ignis’s flesh. “Yes, why not. I’d like that.” 

Ardyn could not imagine his future. He could not very well envision what it felt like to die, nor did he want to fathom an eternity more of whatever he had now.  But whatever the future held, he would like to face it with the sweet memory of Ignis’s touches in mind. Hands and lips and skin. If Ardyn held onto these things then perhaps…

…the rest did not even matter. 

 

 

~~~The end~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's kind of a bittersweet ending. The way I see it, by the time the plot reaches the World of Ruin, there really is no going back. Like too much has happened. So there's no way to fix everything after that. Therefore, Ardyn and Ignis never really become a thing...but they get pretty close? Idk. After this, the events of the game continue on like they do in the canon. But you can interpret what happens in the gaps however you like ;) 
> 
> To the OP of this prompt, [HigharollaKockamamie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HigharollaKockamamie/pseuds/HigharollaKockamamie), umm...heh. I hope this is sort of what you were looking for! I took some liberties. And the fic ended up being, you know 30k+ words. Eheh? ^_^'' 
> 
> Peace in the middle east~~ :D


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